Fairy GodHermione
by Cybrokat
Summary: Now Complete - What happens to Hermione when she discovers she is a Fairy Godmother?
1. Chapter 1

Written for Linlawless from the 2013 HGSS Promptfest! MUCH love to my alpha, Araeofsomething, and my beta, Liongirl. I submitted this by the skin of my teeth and only thanks to them.

This story is already completed, as always, and will be uploaded every few days as schedule permits. I just had to reformat after a BSOD, so bear with me.

Please feel free to leave a token of your thoughts. :)

**Chapter One**

Severus Snape was returning to the school with what could almost be considered a smile. His long black robes swished and billowed behind him in their familiar manner as his confident strides brought him closer to his destination.

With the recent fall of Voldemort and the immediate cessation of any of his duties pertaining to the Order of the Phoenix, this was shaping up to be the best summer he had ever had. He had no meetings to worry about, nothing to conceal, nowhere to be. The students were just now out of the castle, he himself returning from dropping them off to the train station personally. He didn't often attend the Leaving, but this time he wanted to see with his own eyes all the little children getting on the train to Somewhere Not Here.

He was almost tempted to wave.

Potter was out of the castle for good and had taken his friends with him. Longbottom was even gone.

Oh, that felt good to say. Longbottom. Was. Gone. He rolled it around a few times in his mind, and it just got better each time. Like a fine wine, he savored it.

No.

More.

Longbottom.

No Potter. No Granger. No Malfoy. No Dumbledore, rest his soul. No Voldemort. No. Bloody. Weasleys.

Just Severus Snape, his potions, and his solitude. The scant others in the castle were easily avoidable.

"Hello, Professor!"

He stopped in his tracks with an almost audible squeal of his boots against the stone. Whipping around in spectacular fashion, he glared at the speaker in a curious way, as if determining if this phantasm was real.

"Minerva's tartan knickers," Snape said. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Hermione Granger simply paused and held up the book she had in her hands for closer inspection. "I'm staying on at the castle to research the next edition of Hogwarts: A History. I've written the publisher on several occasions, and they've agreed to let me expand some sections that are sorely lacking. Why, in fact, the section pertaining to rules against—"

"Forget I asked, Miss Granger," he interrupted, irritated. "I wouldn't want you to mistakenly think I gave a niffler's left foot about why you are here. I simply figured this was the part of the nightmare where I wake in terror."

Hermione stood and watched as her ex-professor continued his stride down the hall, a little quicker this time. As if on impulse, she hollered after him, "Neville will be here, too!" which caused him to kick the wall sharply and yell something profane.

Poppy didn't even ask why he needed three toes mended.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione Granger settled into a new routine much quicker than she'd expected. While it was true she was staying somewhere familiar, she had doubted it would feel the same without the hum of activity normally surrounding the castle.

It was only now, a few weeks after term, that the dust finally settled, and she could sort out just what exactly had happened that ended the final war.

Hermione had been revising for Arithmancy a few weeks before the end of term when Harry suddenly flew into the common room with the news that tonight was the night they would confront Voldemort. Quickly and efficiently, they gathered the troops. In what now seemed to be a very short confrontation, Voldemort had been eradicated.

As far as she could figure, Hermione woke up that very next morning to people asking her what was next for the famous trio. Questions shot out from everywhere. Students, staff, reporters, even her great aunt Blanche sent her a letter demanding to know what was to become of her future.

While the boys were off to find fame and fortune, Hermione could only ponder doing what she had always done. She wanted to continue learning and expanding her magical education. She also wanted to do something tangible, something that would benefit the populace. Many things surfaced as possible options, but when she received the letter about drafting the next edition of Hogwarts: A History, she knew it would allow her to do another thing she had always done.

Spend a sunny afternoon in the library, alone, with nothing but the books and the dust bunnies for company.

Yes, that sounded like a splendid option, and she'd found herself responding before the owl had finished his treat.

Now, Hermione lay awake in the middle of a huge bed, a couple of weeks into July, and she realized how much she had come to miss the peace and serenity of her very own room.

Company was not hard to find in the castle if she chose to seek it out. Some of the professors were here, including Headmistress McGonagall, and Neville was as well. Many of her friends sent her owls inviting her to the Burrow or Diagon Alley if she wanted to escape for a while. However, Hermione found that she had missed having herself for company and doing the things she wanted to do when she wanted to do them.

And as long as she avoided Professor Snape, she could pretty much do as she pleased.

Right now, she wanted to go for a stroll.

Dressing in some cotton shorts and a comfortable shirt, Hermione poked her nose into a few parts of the castle she had yet to visit.

It was, after all, part of her job now to know each nook and cranny.

As hallway after hallway passed underneath her feet, she pondered the acerbic man who had been once her instructor.

Hermione had been shocked at her reception upon seeing him in the castle on her way back from the train station. She had never expected he would be so, well, tetchy. In the back of her mind, she had always assumed that his attitude had been part of an act. No one could really be that disagreeable, she thought.

Obviously, she was wrong.

After their initial meeting, he treated her as though he was going to take a pound of flesh out of her for breaking his toes or just avoiding her like she was a dungbomb. If he saw her in the hallway, he would backtrack. If she entered the Great Hall, he would leave. It wasn't long before they found a rhythm to their day that would ensure the smallests mount of contact possible between the professor and his ex-students.

And that was nothing compared to the way he was treating Neville. Hermione would not be surprised to find Professor Snape throwing up the sign of the cross or other such nonsense as though he could ward himself against the supposed evil that was Neville Longbottom.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione continued her path down the unfamiliar corridors. She was trying to estimate where she was in the architecture when something caught her eye.

Further down the hall was a sliver of sunlight illuminating the smooth polished stones. The arched doorway was just barely cracked, and now that she listened, Hermione could hear…

…water?

As she moved close, the soft tinkling assured her that it was indeed what she was hearing.

Standing in front of the tall door, the torches were high enough that she could read a phrase chiseled above the frame.

_Brevis ipsa vita est sed malis fit longior_

Her brain automatically translated: Our life is short but is made longer by misfortunes.

Odd, she thought, eyeing the opened passage. Hermione didn't touch the door but cast a simple magic detection spell on the frame. When nothing appeared, she opened the door just a sliver more so that she could see into the room beyond.

But it wasn't a room at all. In fact, a courtyard garden awaited her. The sun shone over the high walls of the castle and everywhere there was plant life. Flowers grew up the walls, snaking around and over the stones. Butterflies fluttered from flower to flower, and a few birds chirruped high in a tree.

Intrigued, naturally, Hermione opened the door the rest of the way and walked inside the courtyard. As was becoming her habit, she took out a square of parchment, brought it back to normal size, circled the possible location of the courtyard, shrunk it, and put it back into her pocket. She looked all around her, noting the vegetation. Judging by the lack of disturbance, this was a tended but not often frequented garden. Strolling on the path around the square, Hermione noted a few benches and some small statues before winding her way around to the source of the water.

A fountain dominated the center of the area. Its three large bowls were arranged in tiered fashion. Hermione was surprised to note that they just hovered above each other, with no visible support. How the water got from the bottom to the top she wondered as she watched it fall like rain into the basin below.

Lured by the comforting and musical tinkle, Hermione gravitated over to the edge of the large fountain before sitting on the rim and letting her fingers trail through the cool water. A glint beneath the surface caught her eye, and she noticed there were coins covering the bottom of the pool of water. It reminded her of the large fountain in the park by her home where she would make wishes and toss in pennies, believing in the childhood magic.

As she recalled these fond memories, one of the coins stood out. It was a large gold galleon and seemed newer than the rest as it was shiny in the sunlight with no tarnish. Hermione snagged the coin before she thought twice, turning it over in her hands.

With a startled breath, she read the inscription:

_Harry Potter, May 2__nd__ 1999, I wish Voldemort was defeated. For Good._

But that's…that was her Harry Potter! And that was the night of the last battle!

Now regarding the fountain with wide eyes and trepidation, she scooped out a few more coins. The vast majority were people she didn't know, asking for all sorts of things, and some were from centuries in the past. A new broom for Betelgeuse Black, reconciliation for Maris Sturkle, or a Transfiguration O for Tim Timmersby. Most of the wishes were both timeless and faceless to Hermione. But a few were people she recognized.

These coins she laid out on the stone edge after cleaning them to shiny new. It was a bit disconcerting and she felt guilty, being able to just pick up a coin and see someone's innermost desire.

But she couldn't help reaching for more coins.

Hermione could reach her hand in as far as it would go and still there was no bottom, though it seemed the newer coins were on top, which made sense to her rational mind.

She sorted through another handful —or maybe five —before finally tearing herself away. She had work to do today, after all, and it wasn't as if she couldn't come back.

Hermione pocketed a few of the coins to look into later before making her way back through to the library. She saw no one on her trek except a startled Snape who suddenly had a powerful urge to go to the greenhouses instead of the library.

Shaking her head, she entered the quiet parchment monolith, inhaling the familiar scent of dust and sunshine before setting down her bag and her current research.

However, the section of school bylaws from the 1400s was not where she ended up.

Hermione found herself flipping through books about the school's floor plan, and, coming up empty, she then turned to Sculptures of Hogwarts. With still nothing to show, she found a few books on legends of the school.

Soon she found it and smacked herself for not looking here first. This was a book she had read before, when she was looking for the basilisk in her second year, before she knew it was a basilisk she was looking for.

So happily was she looking through the pertinent information, she missed the black shadow enter the annex of the library.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape sorely needed that book.

He had been hoping Granger would just drop it off and go, but no. Things could not be that simple. From the corner of the room, he watched as she returned the book in question and then proceeded to flit around the entire damn library before settling in not two rows away from where he needed to be.

For there only being two students in the castle, they managed to be everywhere. When he had seen Granger heading toward his destination earlier, he decided that picking up the fresh herbs from Professor Sprout really was a much better way to spend his afternoon. But no sooner had he reached the greenhouse when he heard Longbottom ask some idiotic question about rosewood.

Professor Snape was then in a bind.

Granger or Longbottom.

Longbottom or Granger.

With a defeated sigh, he had headed back into the castle. He could at least attempt to avoid Granger. There would be no escaping Longbottom. Granger was usually too engrossed in a book to notice Armageddon.

And so it was that he found himself slinking around the library he had known for more than twenty years, all to avoid a student.

He wasn't slinking, he told himself. He was avoiding unnecessary interruptions. It was efficiency. That was all.

Doubling back on his tracks, he found the correct row and deftly moved between the shadows to his goal.

~~HGSS~~

While it was true that Hermione could become pretty unaware of the outside world with a book in front of her, she was not blind to the slinking of her professor. Rolling her eyes, she continued to read.

…_The Fountain of Erised_ —Hermione rolled her eyes again at the not-so-clever title—_was made by the same wizards who crafted the mirror of the same name. The origins themselves are lost, but the objects still remain. Like the mirror, the fountain reflects a person's innermost desire. However, the fountain exists to reflect that desire unto another person. Within the magical waters, coins will have an inscription of the person, the date and the wish. The denomination of the coin signifies the depth of desire attached to each wish. One must truly be desperate to obtain a gold Galleon._

_Harry_, she thought.

A frown was all that showed of her sadness for her friend as she continued to read.

_The Fountain of Erised remains hidden from most, especially those who search for it. It can only be found by those whose desire to help others equals the desire of those casting wishes. One must be solely focused on the needs of their brethren, and not themselves, to find the source of this powerful magic enabling them to be a Godparent._

Hermione was fascinated by what she had learned. It was quite possible she had found a repository of every wish ever made in Hogwarts.

Now, she just had to figure out what do with it.

But first…

"Do you think I should focus on bylaws of the fifteenth century first or jump right to the major revision in the sixteenth, Professor?"

The shadow behind the bookshelf gave a small twitch.

Professor Snape smoothly emerged as though he were merely waiting, impatiently, for her question. "I suggest the latter, Miss Granger, for if you wish to retain this book, I'm afraid you will find it impossible."

The book snapped smartly shut in his hands. "Now you must go and annoy someone else. I do not wish to spend my summer answering the questions of stupid little girls who cannot do the work for themselves."

Again, he turned and left the room with the small leather book in hand. With Madam Pince not manning the library in the summer, there was no need to check out.

With an exasperated exhale, Hermione wondered if there was anything she could do to make him not think of her as an annoying little know-it-all. But, considering she was a bossy little know-it-all, she assumed not. If she could get him to stop skirting her like the plague, she'd be happy.

Taking the book she had found with her —thoroughly appreciating the lack of the stern matron —she headed up to the Great Hall to grab a bite to eat.

Since the castle was so empty, people pretty much came and went as they pleased when it came to meal times. Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick would take their meals at the same times as they would normally during the school year. Firenze was spending the summer in the forest, and many of the professors were at their summer homes as well. In fact, Hermione wasn't sure why Professor Snape was still here.

Maybe the castle just felt more like home to him than his actual one. Perhaps something happened to it during the war. She wasn't sure. But either way, it ranked low on her list of priorities for the moment. She had much more interesting things to figure out right now than the eccentricities of her bitter former professor.

With no one in the Great Hall —Neville must be running late on their set appointment to eat together —she pulled out the coins and the book, laying the coins in a line above her sandwich and juice.

So many. There were just so many coins in that fountain. How long had some lain there? As long as Hogwarts itself had been standing? How come no one had told her of this fountain before?

She picked up one of the coins and rolled it around in her hand, the cool weight offering an anchor to her thoughts. Most of these she knew that no one could grant but Fate itself. Others, however…

She did have a lot of time on her hands, after all. One couldn't spend all day, every day in the library. Only Neville was around to offer a distraction, and he was more of, well, just a distraction.

The coins on the table seemed to stare back at her.

She made up her mind.

And that was how Hermione Granger came to be Fairy GodHermione.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A little late than I had hoped. My computer decided to install 159 updates (not exaggerating) and then I had to overnight a celebrity's underwear. Ah, the perks of the hotel industry. **

**I was a little worried at first that this story wasn't well received but it seems as though you all enjoyed the first part? Whose coin are you hoping shows up?**

**Chapter Two**

_…No._

…_No._

…_Definitely not. _

…_Hmm, maybe, but I don't know where to find one._

It was midmorning about a week after Hermione had found the Fountain of Erised. Each day, it seemed, she would collect a handful or two of the coins to bring back to her room and evaluate.

Since the recent coins were on the surface, she was careful to take the top layers, though a few had gotten mixed in from when she had originally reached into the fountain.

Most of the wishes were not anything she could help with. The person in question was either gone for the summer, or passed on, or the wish wasn't something she could accomplish.

Getting Gilderoy Lockhart to shag a student was not going to happen, for example. And she wasn't about to assist in organizing a threesome for anyone. She couldn't help a past student with their exams, and she couldn't bring someone's dog back to life.

However, many were wishes she could fulfill and those she kept aside and placed in a small satchel. She thought about putting up some protective spells to ward against intruders but decided it was really unnecessary. There were a grand total of maybe ten people in the castle at any given time. She was the only female student, and the spells would just cause more attention than they were worth. An unassuming bag sitting on her shelf was much less likely to be discovered.

Periodically, she would take out the coins and contemplate them. She would arrange them in order according to their monetary worth, and then she would rearrange them by date. It was when she sorted them again by the age of the wisher that she knew she just needed to make up her mind and get started with her plan.

And so she did.

She arranged the coins into short term and long term. Some things were going to be easy to do. In fact, she was surprised some of these were even in here. If the wisher had just told someone about their wish, it easily would have been granted.

Oh well. The job just fell to her.

~~HGSS~~

A change had come over the already obnoxious and impertinent Miss Granger.

Previously, when he would glower in her direction or speak with her, she would shy away, chastised. She never did anything to call his attention —outside of raising her incessant hand.

Now, it seemed she was everywhere. Professor Snape swore that when they entered the castle, duplicates must have been made of both her and the Longbottom boy.

But at least the boy fled in his presence. Not true of the girl.

The professor frowned as he looked at his morning meal. Was it so much to ask for a quiet summer in the castle before the dunderheads returned?

Since he was a boy, Severus Snape had rarely had peace and quiet. Oh, he'd had peace. And other times, he'd had quiet. They just never had coincided.

As a child, even though he was the only one, his father had made enough racket to satisfy even the Weasley brood. There was never a tranquil time in the Snape home. He did not often think of those times, preferring them to be dead and gone with both of his parents.

Then came Hogwarts. Where was one to find peace or quiet in a dorm full of boys? Even Slytherin ones. He had been a loner, to be sure, but that did not mean he could escape the clamor of the people around him. And with the tormenting that came from, well, everyone, but especially the group of four from Gryffindor, even the library or his favorite tree by the lake had been no escape. It was then he could find quiet, but again, no peace. He had to be as on his toes as he was when his father came home from the pub, for a curse could hurt and hinder just as much as a fist would.

And then came the "Voldemort Years."

Once he took the Dark Mark, he knew then that his life would still be ruled by others. At any time, he could be summoned before his Lord and must be willing to set anything aside. Again, quiet, on occasion, but no peace.

And then there was the death of the Potters. Of Lily. From then on, any hope of peace was shattered, and quiet was too. Thrust into a double life, he also added "Professor" to his title. He didn't mind being back in the familiar walls of the castle and away from the home which held so little for him. Eventually, he also became Head of Slytherin, further dashing his hopes for solitude. Now, at anytime, the Headmaster, or Mistress, or the Dark Lord, or a student, could come asking for him, and they frequently did. After Voldemort's first fall, he had had a few years of relative peace, but even that was often broken by the shenanigans of the students.

And then came The End. The fall of Voldemort. He was released from two of his bindings, and the summer was ahead of him. He could quite possibly spend eight glorious weeks with no one but himself for company. He could brew any potion, without the worry of interruption at a crucial stage. He could pick up a book and read it cover to cover in one sitting. He could put away the heavy robes he wore to encourage his intimidating demeanor.

He wouldn't have to make small talk with those intellectually beneath himself or answer questions from irritating students. Hell, he could walk the halls in his bathrobe if he so chose, as there would be no one else where he traversed.

And then, with that simple hello, his dream was shattered.

Like nails on a chalkboard, her voice scraped against his cerebrum. And when she informed him of Longbottom as well, he just about snapped that she might as well round up all of her little friends for a jolly get -together in his chambers, since his summer just went to hell in a hand basket anyway.

Hmm. Perhaps that suggestion wasn't too off the mark. He could suggest something in a room —far away from his own. Provide plenty of libations and with an advanced Alohomora cast on the door—

"Professor?" came the call with a firm knock on his door.

He didn't answer.

"Professor?" the girl tried again. "I know you're in there! The portrait told me."

Blast. He knew he should have replaced the bloody thing. It was much too acquiescing.

Snape told the firmly shut door, "Go away, Granger."

"But, sir, I just have a quick question."

"None of your questions are ever brief, Miss Granger, and regardless of their content, I don't care to hear them. Go find someone who gives a damn."

Hermione stood on the other side of the thick oak door, exasperated. She tried a different tactic, one that had often worked with both her father and her male friends.

"Sir? Professor Snape? I really need your help, and you are the only one I can come to. You're brilliant in Potions. No one I know can rival you, and I know with certainty you are the only one who can help. I need you, sir. Anyone else would just be a pathetic imitation. Please?"

She grimaced at the pleading note in her voice, even if what she had said was true. Hermione Granger wasn't one to beg, and she didn't usually try to manipulate, but when in Rome…

The door creaked open.

Popping her head inside, she saw her professor sitting in a comfortable-looking chair. Though he wasn't wearing his robes, he was still wearing his scowl, complete with crossed arms. "Well, spit it out, stupid girl. I haven't got all day."

"What else are you doing?" asked Hermione, curious.

"That is none of your concern! If you have just come to inquire about my affairs, please see yourself to the door, and I don't care if it hits you on the way out." He didn't bother telling her that his important to-do list contained a good book and a possible nap this afternoon.

Snape reached as though to pick up said book and close the conversation.

"No!" said Hermione emphatically. "I didn't mean to pry. I just, well, I, um, see, I'm—"

"Your allotted time is rapidly diminishing in the face of your eloquence, Miss Granger."

Fighting a blush, she managed to stammer out her request. "Well, I'm working on some research over the summer on the side, and I was sort of hoping, and you don't have to of course, but IwanttolearntheWolfsbanepotion."

My, but she _was_ a cheeky wretch. "The Wolfsbane? And why, in Merlin's name, would I let you assist in such a complicated potion?"

"Because I'm good at following directions. And I don't mind the grunt work, even the seven hours of observation to see if the color changes, leaving you free to do something else. And you'd know where I'd be so you wouldn't have to worry about running into me. Sir."

Damn. She had a good point.

"And why do you wish to learn this particular potion? Gnawing at you, is it? The fact that there is something you don't know?"

She gave him a glare to match his own. "I want to learn it so that when some student snaps and kills you, the rest of us won't be stuck with a murderous werewolf. And you yourself said that when it comes to Potions, the more we learn, the better off we are, since each is not merely a recipe but a ritual unto itself to be experienced and savored."

He gave her a surprised look, both for her cheek and her exact repetition of his lecture. "I will commence brewing tonight, Miss Granger. Six sharp, be in my office. Wear something comfortable. It's going to be a long night —for you," he added, satisfied that his sleep would not be interrupted once again by brewing to help that idiotic, spineless, poor excuse for a werewolf. He had never relished being forced to help him after him and his friend got away with such bullying in school. Now, it could be someone else's problem.

Startled that he didn't berate her for her outburst, she left his chambers.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione spent all afternoon reading what she could on the Wolfsbane potion.

Snape assumed she would do just that and enjoyed freely traipsing the grounds and castle. Even Longbottom was nowhere to be found.

Even though Hermione was rereading books she had already read at some point during her school career, the knowledge she had gained as a seventh year, being back under Snape's tutelage and after having her mind broadened by the teachings of the Half-Blood Prince, she found she was forming new ideas and theories about ways to alter the Wolfsbane potion.

Which was exactly her intent.

While Hermione had already fulfilled some of the smaller wishes —it was no trouble at all to bake some fresh banana bread for Professor Flitwick, nor was it hard to send Ginny the book on dating famous wizards —there was one long term wish that had caught her eye.

_Remus J. Lupin. May 25__th__, 1995 _—_I wish the parents wouldn't know of my condition._

Hermione had held this coin in her hand. A shiny gold Galleon.

There was nothing to be done about the populace knowing about his…condition, as he called it. He had been ostracized by the community, forced to lay low in Grimmauld Place with Sirius until his passing. Now he shared the home with Tonks and Harry, but he still wasn't free to come and go as he wished without the stares and the whispers.

Hermione knew that feeling. If there was a way to erase the prejudice about her birth, she would do it in a heartbeat. Of course, now that she was part of the fabled trio who had eradicated Voldemort, her blood status was no longer in question. But she doubted that was true for the other witches and wizards of less than "pure" upbringing. She didn't wish to change, she was proud of her Muggle heritage. But the naïve and biased opinions she could do without.

And so, Hermione wanted to dedicate her free time to doing something for Remus. While a full cure was farfetched, she hoped for maybe an alteration to give him easier or less pronounced transformations.

She read the books cover to cover, skipped through to the relevant areas and jotted down notes in her neat cursive writing with her purple gel pen.

There were advantages to not being in school. Leaving the quill and inkwell in her room was one of them.

Admiring her pen for a moment, she quickly went back to work away the hours.

~~HGSS~~

Five minutes to six found her nervously pacing outside of her professor's door.

It would be rude to knock too early. He would expect her to be punctual. But, if she waited too long before she knocked, she wouldn't be punctual; she'd end up being late. Did he want her to knock right at six or was he expecting her to be inside and ready to work at six? Was three to the hour an acceptable compromise?

The sound of the door jerking open snapped her out of her worries.

"For the love of Circe, girl. Get in here. I can hear you fretting from my lab."

"I don't fret!" proclaimed Hermione, even as she was calming herself down.

Snape ignored her and took in her appearance. Hair tied back, good. If it wasn't, he would have turned her back on her heels.

Sensible Muggle sneakers, fine.

No robes, also fine. Soft cotton pants, good. The tank top left something to be desire —because he certainly wasn't looking at the heaving bodice of a mere girl as she soothed her fright, the soft round breasts not tempting him in the slightest —but overall, her choices were satisfactory.

Hermione stood there as his eyes roamed over her body. She felt him start with her feet and work his way up until she had to cross her arms over her chest. "Are you ready, Professor?" she snapped.

"Merely making sure you are, Miss Granger. After you."

With a wave of his wand, a door slid open revealing his personal lab. Hermione hadn't known until that day that he had one, but it made sense. The ingredients and materials suitable for first years would be far inferior to the demands of a Potions Master.

Hours passed in relative silence as Hermione pondered when, exactly, to start questioning him. She hoped proving her competence would butter him up a little.

She didn't know that just holding her tongue was putting him in a better mood.

Near midnight, the potion reached its stable stage. It would now have to rest for the next seven hours. Hopefully, no color change would occur, and the blue smoke would waft off the potion at the end of the rest.

"Sir?"" she tentatively asked.

"Hmm?" Snape questioned, without even looking up from the formula.

"Have you ever tried to alter the Wolfsbane?"

Snape's eye's snapped to hers. "Of course I have, you daft little–"

He made himself calm down before continuing. She had been of assistance and he might wish to use her again in the future. No use in offending the non-hired help. With a deep breath, he continued.

"Just who do you think you are talking to? Your little friends had my Potions book from when I was younger than you are now, Miss Granger, and if I find a way to cure the damned wolf, then I may never have to set my eyes upon his ragged form again."

"Sorry. What have you tried?"

Without a word, he walked up to a bookshelf and threw a large book at her. She barely caught it before it smacked into her. With a sharp look at him, she laid the book on the counter and began to read.

As he tidied the area and put away the vials and containers, Hermione quickly scanned through the book in his familiar scrawl. "Have you tried lavender?"

"What?"

"Lavender. To counteract the harsh qualities of the rest of the potion. Perhaps if it mimics' the natural equilib–"

" Dammit, Granger, don't you think if it is something as simple as that, that it would have been done already? Of course lavender has been tried!"

She frowned at him. "But it isn't in your book."

"Stupid, blind, insolent twit!" He snatched the book from her. "It's right here! Right after…"

But it wasn't there. Incensed, Snape flipped through the book front to back, then back to front for good measure.

He had never recorded trying lavender. He must have thought about it but forgot to actually try it amongst all of his other trials.

"Fine. Put in lavender. And when this whole bloody mess is rendered unusable, it is you who will provide the replacement ingredients and brew. Alone!"

With a dramatic slam of the door, he left Hermione in silence, her eyes wide and form still as she watched him go.

With a slight tremor in her hand, she added a sprig of crushed lavender.

~~HGSS~~

To his credit, he did not kill Hermione Granger in the week that followed. Even if she did sorely deserve it.

Lupin had come up to his chambers the day after the full moon in a barely controlled state of shock, blubbering something about his transformation. Obviously, something had gone awry, and he knew who was to blame.

After forcing a Calming Draught down the wolf's throat, he managed to get the story out of him.

Lupin had never transformed.

Snape immediately left the bumbling man and when he found Hermione, docilely working on her book revision, he very nearly grabbed her by her ear like an errant child. He settled for her arm and nearly dragged her —complete with kicking and screaming —into his office. Tossing her into a chair, he demanded answers.

"What did you do?"

"Just what I said I was going to!" Hermione yelled back at him.

"Tell me, Hermione! Just what exactly did you do?!"

It was then she noticed Remus was in the office, looking relatively unscathed.

"It worked then? Tell me, did it work, Remus?"

The man nodded, and Hermione squealed with joy and hugged him around his shoulders. They held each other laughing, until they remembered Snape, who was standing alone, barely controlling his temper.

"A sprig. That was it. I just added a spring of lavender after you left. We did it, sir."

She gave him the same smile that she had given Remus, but thankfully, she managed not to try and physically assault him.

~~HGSS~~

The _Daily Prophet_ headline the next morning read "New Snape-Granger Wolfsbane cures Remus Lupin!"

He had no idea why his name even appeared in the title. He had nothing to do with it. Just then, Granger came to where he sat alone at the High Table.

"I couldn't have done it without you, sir. It was your trials that told me what was left to try. I'm sure you would have gotten it. Sometimes, it's just hard to see the forest for the trees."

Hermione left the Great Hall with a spring in her step and a smile on her face, leaving her seething professor behind as he crumbled the edges of the paper in his hands.

It was good to be a Godmother.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Dear Ron, _

_I know this will be close on the heels of my last letter after assisting with the Wolfsbane, but I need to ask you a favor…_

Hermione sat in a quiet alcove of the library. It's true that she could have written all of her correspondence in her room, but it had become awfully lonely after six weeks of solitude. At least out here, she would occasionally see someone while still being able to enjoy the silence.

Not much had changed for her in the wake of the discovery of the Snape-Granger Wolfsbane. It was now in testing at the Ministry, and, once approved, it would be given to all werewolves. She hoped that Professor Snape hadn't objected to her adding her name onto the potion. She knew she hadn't done much of the work, had only gotten lucky really. An extra set of eyes. That was all. He would have gotten it.

He was surely furious with her.

Well, it didn't matter at present. She held the next coin in her hand. Only a sickle this time, but she strongly felt that this was not only a wish she could grant, but one that needed to be granted as well.

The wisher had never had anything positive in life. That she was fairly certain of. Everything she heard was hate, or manipulation. Hermione was going to try and correct that, and she wouldn't need anything from Professor Snape this time.

Though it would be nice to have Ron.

Hermione worked on letters to her other friends after bringing Ron's up to the Owlery. Harry and Ron's Auror training didn't begin until the same time that classes did at school, so she could only imagine the mischief they had been getting up to. Harry was supposed to be at his house, and Ron at the Burrow, but Hermione had a guess they would be spending their time together at one home or the other, enjoying their freedom. Perhaps Harry had been bright enough to invite Ginny along on occasion. If Ron invited Luna, then they would be set.

She decided to write her parents as well. She had quickly sent them a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ but she knew it wouldn't mean much to them until they received her explanation of the potion and its importance.

When all of her letters were signed, sealed, and ready to be delivered, Hermione headed back up to the Owlery to send them on their way. However, she only made it halfway before she was intercepted by her first owl carrying a return letter from Ron.

_Anything for Hogwarts' latest celebrity. I'll be there around dinner tonight. _

_Love, _

_Ron_

Well that settled that then! Tonight, she would work on the second of the major wishes.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione prepared for her evening with Ron. She took a pack and filled it with a few hiking supplies, and she made sure to wear clothing appropriate for the Forbidden Forest.

As she walked to dinner, she was suddenly grabbed in a big hug.

"Hermione!" bellowed Ron. "It's been ages!"

"It's been six weeks, Ron. Put me down!"

Ron set Hermione on her feet as he pouted. "Well, it feels like it's been longer. And besides, it sounds like things are much more interesting here than at home. You created a bloody cure!"

"There are more people at the Burrow then in this whole castle, Ron. Probably including the ghosts. And I didn't create a cure, I got lucky."

"Is that why Snape put his name first? Git. It was your work! He probably never would have gotten it on his own.""

Ron was very close to entering the main hall now, and Hermione was not sure who was in there at the moment. With her hand pressed against the door to bar his entering, she told him, "Professor Snape, Ronald. He may not be your teacher anymore, but he still is one. And he didn't put his name first, _I _did. I got lucky and I wouldn't have if I hadn't had his research to go on. Now, are you going to be willing to help me tonight or are you just going to be a berk?"

"Good grief, Hermione. Yes, I'll help you. Just let me get a bite to eat first."

The pair walked into the hall for a quick bite. Quick for Hermione because she ate little. Quick for Ron because he was Ron.

Soon, they were out at the edge of the forest. Since they were no longer students, they didn't have to ask permission to enter. And since Hermione didn't really want to try and explain her reasons for going into the forest, she had decided just not to mention it to anyone.

Timidly, they began their search. Ron pointed out where he had last seen what they were looking for.

"Wow, there are a multitude of plants out here I haven't seen in the wild! I wonder if anyone has come out here to do an herbology study. Maybe I can see when Neville has an afternoon free."

"Are you daft, Hermione? We're in the Forbidden Forest!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione huffed and kept quiet as she listened to the crack of branches and leaves beneath her feet. Crickets were chirping and a few frogs could be heard, but they grew quiet as the two came close. A dark mist hung over the ground as they walked between large trees and ducked under the long branches.

"Where do you think it could be, Ron?" asked Hermione in a whisper.

"Who knows now. It's been ages since I saw it last. It could be anywhere. Maybe it ran off or died or something. Maybe it was eaten by something. Like the spi-spi-spiders," he told her with a shudder.

"Honestly, Ron. They are just spiders. We're not looking for them, we should be fine. And we've mostly made peace with the centaurs. Even Grawp has moved to the hut beside Hagrid's. I really don't know what your problem is."

"Problem? My problem, Hermione? There are loads of things in here that are dangerous! Like the spi-spiders. They could be anywhere! They could be over there," he said, pointing to a large tree, "or over there!" indicating a small shrub. "In fact, I think I see one right there!" he yelled, as he looked at a fallen log with a large shadow cast over the top.

"What?" asked Hermione. "I think you're paranoid. That looks like a, I don't know, a den or something."

"Exactly!" said Ron.

At that moment, they heard a rustle from close by the tree. Slowly, the form began to rise. Through the mist, they could see little but the whispers of fog swirling around the hulking form. Hermione was tempted to call out to see if the creature was friendly, but her fear kept her paralyzed. She thought about asking Ron what he thought it was but she didn't want to make noise. And honestly, he was probably useless right now anyhow, if the past was anything to go on.

Suddenly, she saw a long and thin appendage extending from the mist.

"An acromantula!" screamed Ron as he took off like snitch through the underbrush.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed after him. "Are you a wizard or aren't you? _Lumos_!"

Light flared from the tip of Hermione's wand, lighting up the areaall around her. As it reached the creature, it bolted, and Hermione saw the familiar tail of a unicorn as it dodged around a tree and ran out of sight.

She turned to tell Ron to come back, that he was being a big baby, honestly, to run at the first sight of danger — how was he ever supposed to be an Auror? — when she heard him yell out in the darkness.

"Ron?" called Hermione. "It was just a unicorn! Ron?"

He didn't answer her.

"Ron? This isn't funny! Alright, look, I know I made light of being out here but it was just a unicorn! You don't have to play games like this. I get it. I'm sorry. Now where are you?"

Hermione moved toward where Ron had taken off, carefully picking her way over the ground since branches were strewn from the overhead trees onto the uneven forest floor. Suddenly, she saw the familiar ginger hair of her friend.

"Ron!"

Hermione ran to where he was sitting against a tree. A grimace was all he gave her as he held his leg, which she noted was at an odd angle.

"Did you break it?" she asked.

"Yeah. I think so. Tripped on that log over there."

"Well, that was a stupid thing to do, wasn't it?" snapped Hermione. "I hope you don't think I can Mobilicorpus you all the way to the castle! I'm not going to try to set both bones at once. Can you walk? Or hobble?"

Ron tried to stand while leaning against the tree but as soon as he got off the ground it was evident he was not going to be mobile.

Hermione gave an exasperated groan. This was not how the evening was supposed to go! This was supposed to be an easy wish! And now, here she was. Stuck out in the forest with a broken Ron, who knew how far from the castle.

Suddenly, she remembered her training from Harry.

"I can send my Patronus! I haven't been able to use him before! _Expecto Patronum_!"

White wisps appeared, followed by an otter who playfully dived around Ron and Hermione.

"I need help," Hermione told him. "Can you go to Hogwarts and find someone to help us?"

The otter chattered and took off in what Hermione hoped was the direction of the school.

"Him?" asked Ron with a laugh. "You have a boy Patronus? Did you name him?"

"Goodness gracious, Ron! You are stuck out in the Forbidden Forest at nightfall with a broken leg and all you can ask is if my Patronus is a boy?" Hermione was wildly using her arms as she spoke, trying not to work herself into a panic. She dropped her pack to find something for them to eat while they waited for help to arrive mostly to give herself something to do.

"His name is Oliver."

"His name is? Oh, that's rich, Hermione! You named your Patronus!" Ron leaned forward in laughter as Hermione shot red sparks in the air to help guide any help that was coming.

"You know what? Fine. You can stay here. You have a wand. I hope that they find you soon, Ronald Weasley." Hermione walked off, accidentally on purpose hitting Ron's leg as she passed.

"Ow! Hermione! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, alright? I promise I won't say a word!"

The first thing their help heard as he flew through the forest on a broom was Ron's pleading words. With a scowl, Professor Snape dismounted and took stock of the situation. He frowned at them both. "As curious as I am to know what could have Weasley begging at your feet, I'm afraid it doesn't overpower my desire to not talk with either of you. I'll tell Pomfrey you are here."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but as she did, the matron herself came through the trees.

"Not necessary, Severus. I'm here. Now let's see. Oh dear. A good break there, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said as she examined Ron closely. "Come now, Severus. Help me get him strapped to my broom. Who knows what muscle damage he's done."

Suddenly, the end of her broom widened to the width of a stretcher and the two carefully maneuvered Ron onto it and strapped him down for safety.

"Well, I'm off then," said the medi-witch. "Mr. Weasley here will be in the infirmary until morning. Severus, please see Miss Granger to safety."

And with that, she was gone.

"Come on then," said Hermione as she headed back into the forest.

Her ex-professor stood still behind her, arms crossed over his chest. "The castle is in the opposite direction, Miss Granger."

"Good, then you'll know how to get us back after we're done."

"I think not. Come along."

Hermione looked back at her professor with the same look often on his face. "No."

"Pardon?" he growled.

"No. I'm not going back yet. I came out here to find something, and I'm sure I'm close. If I go back now, I'll just come back out again, but next time I won't have Ron. I'll probably do something stupid, and you'll just end up out here again too, so really, it saves us both time if you just follow me now. And besides, Madam Pomfrey only asked you to escort me to safety, and I think anywhere you are in this forest is going to be safe."

Snape looked at her, dumbfounded. He couldn't really find a flaw in her logic. He knew her type—foolish Gryffindors—and her friends—stupid Potter and reckless Weasley—enough to know she'd make good on her promise to come out here alone.

"Miss Granger, I have no doubt of the width and breadth of your irresponsible behavior. However, this forest is out of bounds and if you don't follow this instant, I shall be forced to-"

"What? Take points from Gryffindor? Not very sporting, considering I'm not even a student!" Hermione had started the sentence talking but ended it with a yell. She was well past irritated with her evening and her old professor was pushing her into dangerous territory. If Harry had been present, he would have yelled "Mayday!" and abandoned ship. "And another thing, this forest? It's not off limits. I'm. Not. A. Student! Yell at me all you want. I don't care! Be angry with me and hold a grudge because I added my name to the potion! Go ahead! But either way, I am heading back into that forest and I am not coming out until I find a Ford Anglia!"

Snape opened his mouth to retort but couldn't find the words. "An Anglia? You're out in this forest to find an arsing car? What in the blue blazes for?"

Hermione answered him over his muttering of "stupid car" and "daft girl." "Because. I'm, well…" She wasn't about to tell him she was answering wishes. That would certainly elevate his opinion of her. "Just, well, because. Someone wants it and I'm going to return it. Now are you going to help me or not?"

Hermione and Professor Snape stared at each other in the dark of the forest. By now, not even the crickets were chirping. Finally, with a grand flourish, Snape stomped over to his broom and swung a leg over.

"Well?" he asked after a pause. "Get on."

Hermione's felt like her eyes about jumped straight from her head. "Get on? What? And ride?"

"If I am to help you, Miss Granger, we are getting this done as soon as possible. Do you have a faster mode of transportation through a forest?"

"Well. No."

Snape gestured to the broom.

Hermione walked a little closer, paused, and then continued over to the broom. Standing in front of her professor—old professor, ex-professor—she swung a leg over the handle.

She did not like to fly. And she did not like Snape.

She was not going to like this.

Slowly, the broom lifted off the ground as Snape wrapped his arms around her to grab the handle, almost causing an "eek!" to escape Hermione. She instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrists for support. He wisely didn't say a word.

Hermione told him briefly about where the car was last seen, and he pointed the broom headed that way.

"Just guide me, Miss Granger," his deep voice rumbled and she actually felt the tip of his nose rub against the shell of her ear. Hermione felt her chest constrict and her legs go wobbly. That was not the reaction she was expecting. She suddenly had to fend off the wild idea of doing things just to get him to keep talking.

"And I'm not angry with you about the potion. I shouldn't have been on it at all," he offered, rendering Hermione silent for the rest of the ride.

Shortly, they came upon the banged-up blue Ford. It was covered in dirt and moss, and was silent.

"Hello?" called Hermione as she slid off the broom. "Um, Car?"

When it gave no response, she walked closer, working through the brush, and gently rapped on its hood. "Hello?"

Startling Hermione, the car suddenly gave a roar. The headlights flashed on, the horn honked, the engine revved, the trunk opened and closed. At first, it seemed as though the car would attack, and Hermione backed away, but suddenly, it began to drive circles around both of the humans in the clearing.

Laughing, Hermione told it, "Whoa, whoa! Slow down! We want to take you out of here. Is that okay?"

"Beep beep!" answered the car.

"Well, c'mon then! There is someone waiting for you."

Hermione strode over to the broom and was halfway through swinging her leg over when she paused and glanced at her possibly amused professor. "Is this okay?" she asked.

"By all means, Miss Granger. I am apparently at your service."

"My knight in black, billowing armor," Hermione told him, and she felt a chuckle as her seatbelt of arms closed around her waist.

"Hold on," he warned her this time, and they led the lost car out of the forest.

As they neared the edge, Snape told her, "You never told me our destination."

"Um, can you just take me over to Hagrid's hut?"

With an eyebrow arch that was lost to her, the professor steered the broom to Hagrid's and made a gentle touchdown.

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione.

"And just who, exactly, is waiting for this blasted car? Arthur? Molly?"

Just then, with a triumphant vroom, the car burst from the forest and tore across the lawn. It zoomed up to its waiting companion and drove around in circles, dodging the outstretched arms.

Had he not been there to see it, Severus Snape would have thought that the Whomping Willow had no friends.

He would have been wrong.

Hermione watched the two play a moment, knowing how long it had been since the car had gotten lost in the forest. Finally, she looked up at her own companion.

"Come on, sir. Let's go inside and let them have their fun."

The professor nodded to her and followed her into the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So, guess who got called into work at 9:30pm on a Friday? So, I took the liberty of posting another chapter. Please send me some happy thoughts and reviews. I may be here until the week hours of the morning.

Also, this chapter gave me fits for oh, about two years. I hope it doesn't suck.

**Chapter Four**

Hermione tossed the coin into the air and caught it once again. She had been literally tossing the idea around for a few days. The other wishes she had granted turned out perfectly. Even the ones she had thought would take longer worked out better for her. The Wolfsbane, for example, could have taken years or could have not worked ever in her lifetime but she had gotten it on the first try.

It almost made her wonder if the magic of the fountain was greasing the wheels, so to speak. Was it possible things just fell into place when Hermione decided they should do so? It was far too early to tell but something she would keep a close eye on.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she had been a godmother long before she opened the door that led to the fountain. Was a godmother born, or did one have to be made? The entirety of her life she could have had a set of special powers she never knew of.

Had she drawn on these powers? It would explain why she was able to fit together the pieces of so many puzzles and able to tilt the scales in her favor when she clearly should have failed. The potion, the basilisk, brewing Polyjuice, the Time-Turner, posing as Bellatrix. The list went on. Hermione Granger had been very lucky. Was it just luck, though?

Hermione smiled at the thought of a little fairytale magic. Much of her life had unfolded as one, from her simple upbringing to finding out about magic, then adding in her stalwart friends, an evil villain and a triumphant victory. Now she would get to find out what happened after the curtain fell.

But this small wish she was fairly confident she could accomplish without any magical fairy godmother assistance. She wasn't exactly positive why it was so important to her to fulfill, but Hermione knew it needed to be done, and there was no time like the present. She could figure out the godmother magic later.

Molly Weasley wasn't the type of woman to ask for things. And she certainly wasn't the one to ask for anything for herself. Even the coin was merely a Knut. A small little bronze Knut in the sea of Sickles and Galleons.

Hermione held it tightly in her fist. Even when Molly dared to make a wish, she cast it so softly that it had barely made it into the well. That made Hermione sad.

The matriarch of the Weasley family was a mother to everyone. From Dumbledore, rest his soul, down to the baby Teddy Lupin, everyone was given their fair share of mothering by the witch. They were all welcome to sup at the table, and greeted with a hug or hello, and chastised when they forgot to leave their shoes at the door.

Hermione could even recall Professor Snape receiving a plate pressed in his hand or a cup of tea poured when he came in late after a meeting with the Dark Lord.

She felt that Molly was one of the driving forces of the Order. She was, of course, a bit overprotective of her children, including Hermione and Harry, but she had their best interests at heart. Wherever Molly was, that was the Headquarters. She was the one who kept an ear to the ground in the house and kept them all in fighting order. The job she kept wasn't one highly sought after. It was largely thankless and hard work keeping a house of that size running smoothly all day, every day, coordinating meals, rooms, and washing.

Molly never asked for praise or material things in compensation. A contented sigh from someone with a full belly was enough for her. That's why it was so important to Hermione to give her a gift that was only for her. She didn't have to share it around seven children or a group of refugees.

No, what Molly wanted most in a little corner of her heart was just for her, and Hermione was going to see that she got it.

~~HGSS~~

"Hello? Yes, this is Hermione Granger," Hermione said as the head of a neatly dressed woman popped into her Floo and inquired. "Yes, _the_ Hermione Granger," she told her after the woman questioned if she was in fact, the famed heroine. "Move aside, I'll come through."

Hermione stepped through to the bustling office where everyone drew quiet upon seeing her. She pulled her head high and walked to the desk marked as the personal assistant to the director of the Wizarding Wireless Network. "As you see," she told the lady from the fire. "Hermione Granger. Was my request processed?"

"Yes, miss," said the slightly flustered woman. She had seen musical and sometimes political celebrities before but it was still an honor to meet such a lady as Miss Granger.

Hermione took the envelope provided. "Two tickets?" she asked.

"Yes. Right by the stage. He even included two backstage passes."

"Thank you," Hermione told the woman with a beaming smile. "This really means a lot to me. If you need an interview or anything, just let me know."

Hermione took the tickets and stepped back through her fireplace, only to immediately turn around and state, "The Burrow!" She was gone in a flash of green.

"Molly?" she tentatively called as she stepped through.

The woman in question stepped around the corner, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Hermione dear!" The boys are just out enjoying a spot of Quidditch. They're just out back if you'd like to join them. Dinner will be on soon."

"Actually," said Hermione, "I have something for you. It occurred to me that you'd never been properly thanked for your hospitality during the war and I wanted to say thank you. I thought you might enjoy these."

"Oh, you owe me nothing," Molly told her in a soft and serious tone. "It was my part to play, just like the first time. There are fighters, and there are those who support them. I can be called upon when necessary-"

"Just ask Bellatrix!" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, well. She threatened my Ginny, didn't she?" asked Molly. "But you know I never minded a minute having you all to look after and making sure as many got home in one piece as possible."

"I know," Hermione told her honestly. "But you didn't get your proper due when it was over, so I wanted to tell you that I really appreciated having someone while my parents were gone."

"You're welcome," Molly told her with a hug as she took the envelope in hand. Sitting down in her favorite recliner, she slowly opened the paper so as not to tear the contents.

Hermione held her breath as she waited for Molly's reaction. She did still like her, right?

Molly didn't immediately respond and just clutched the tickets to her chest. "I've wanted to see Celestina Warbeck since I was a little girl!" she suddenly exclaimed. "We never had the money, and then the kids came along, and the war, and it just never happened. I used to sit with my mother and listen to the wireless. We knew all of her songs. Thank you, Hermione. Thank you. This means so much to me."

Hermione gave her another hug. "Think of it as a thank you from all of us."

"But wasn't the show sold out? I heard it was going to be huge with the Weird Sisters opening!"

"It turns out people like to give me things," Hermione said and both women laughed.

"Perks of being a heroine!" Molly told her.

Hermione disagreed. "I'm not a heroine. As I once told Harry, it's just books and cleverness."

"Well, it isn't just brawn that's needed to overcome someone like Voldemort," Molly told her. "Now come into the kitchen and round up the boys. I'm going to tell Arthur we're going on a date!"

_Poor Arthur_, thought Hermione, remembering his cringe at the Christmas caroling as she went to go find Harry and Ron. And of course, being Molly, she wouldn't let Hermione leave without taking a little something with her. The boys were quite jealous of the two-tiered cake that left with Hermione, wondering what they needed to do to get one as well. Ron even volunteered to do the washing up.

~~HGSS~~

Later that evening, Hermione mingled in the teacher's lounge. She wasn't a teacher but that didn't stop Minerva from showing her to their rooms and giving her their privileges. No one would be as respectful and discreet as Hermione and there were no students present anyhow.

In fact less than a dozen people were in the entire castle, but all were in attendance that evening.

Neville and Hermione were the only new members to the staff. Professors McGonagall and Sprout were talking amongst themselves while Snape and Flitwick enjoyed a game of chess. Hagrid was on the sofa in front of the fire, trying to inch away from a tipsy Professor Trelawney, a difficult task for someone his size. Hooch and Filch were discussing the upkeep of the Quidditch pitch.

"Neville?" Hermione asked her friend. "If you could have one wish, what would it be?"

Neville cast a sidelong glance to his most feared professor, who was ignoring the conversation and focusing on where to place his knight. "I don't know, Hermione. There are a lot of things one might wish for."

"But what if you only had one? And how do you decide what the right wish is? How do you know for sure it's the one thing you want most in the world?"

A few of the other professors were eavesdropping on the conversation. "I think that the right wish is going to be for the one thing your heart keeps going back to," answered Flitwick, leaving an exasperated Snape hanging midgame. "The first thing that comes to mind, or the one that you can't help but keep thinking of."

"So what is yours, Professor?" Neville asked the little man.

Flitwick pondered for a moment. "I have no idea!" he answered, causing the crowd to laugh.

Hermione brought out the beautiful cake Molly had sent along as a thank you and shared it with the group. There was no way she was going to eat the whole thing on her own. Well, she probably could, but she certainly shouldn't.

"What did Molly give this to you for?" Minerva asked her after taking a second slice.

Hermione shrugged, not really wanted to share the secret of the coins. "I was able to get her some tickets to a concert she wanted to see," she answered vaguely.

"Warbeck?" asked Flitwick, excitedly. "I've always wanted to see her and Molly is a huge fan!"

"Oh. Yes, actually." Hermione had no idea that Molly's love of the singer was so well known. She couldn't even figure out why the singer was so popular in the first place. It certainly wasn't her genre of music.

"But it was sold out!" Flitwick exclaimed. "I've been on the waiting list for weeks!"

"I just asked the staff at the Wizarding Wireless Network. I'm sure I just got really lucky and someone canceled."

"Lucky, my foot," said Flitwick, silently wondering if she had used Felix Felicis.

"I know what mine would be," Minerva told the group.

Snape scoffed, finally abandoning his game and grabbing the last slice of cake. "Is it covered in tartan?"

"Hardly. No, I know it sounds silly and maudlin but when I was a wee lass, I used to spend a great deal of my summers with my gran. We spent a quite a bit of time in the kitchen, but there was one cake she made that she never let anyone see the recipe for. It was, by far, my favorite, and I could always expect an owl with her package of a new book and a fresh cake for my birthday. It had nuts and spices and the best frosting. I wish I knew how to make it, to remind me of those summers spent by her apron strings."

"That's beautiful, Minerva," Sprout told her, patting her arm gently. "I think everyone's family has a few secret recipes. Maybe someday it'll turn up. My scones recipe is hidden in one of my textbooks!"

"Is it now?" asked Hooch, plotting a reason to enter the greenhouse and liberate the recipe. Sprout's scones were legendary among the staff.

Sprout nudged Minerva. "No use asking what Trelawney would wish for."

Hagrid had not yet joined in on the conversation, and now the group saw why. Trelawney had him pressed up against the arm of the sofa, seated as close to him as possible. Her empty wine glass sat on the opposite end table and Hagrid was looking rather nervous. Hermione wasn't sure if it was because he was trying to ward off the woman's advances or if it was because he wasn't sure what he would do with her if he accepted them.

"I bet Severus would like to share his wish," Hooch said with a sly smile.

"I bet he wouldn't," Severus shot back. The woman knew damn well that he wasn't one to share anything remotely personal without a certain gain.

Severus' relationship with the staff had always been a tenuous one. Brought on at the tender age of 21, he hadn't a clue what he was doing with the much older and seasoned staff. He was petulant and defiant, harnessed only by the promise he had made to Dumbledore. In time, they were all able to come to an understanding, even if it was mostly just to live and let live. He had what he considered to be a friendship with a few—Minerva and Flitwick amongst them—but Hooch got her rise in badgering the man like the Hufflepuff she was (not that she would admit it). She saw it as her personal duty to include him in all the conversations, often by putting him in the uncomfortable spotlight.

During his time as headmaster, his relationships with most of the staff had understandably cooled, with the exception of Flitwick and Hagrid. He found the two things he missed most were tea with Minerva, and being harassed by Hooch. It took Rolanda only until the meal following the fall of Voldemort before she was once again giving him a hard time. "What's the matter, Severus?" she had asked. "Snake got your tongue?"

"I bet," said Hermione with a smile, "that he can hardly wish for anything. He can finally do whatever it is he wants. The only thing he could wish for is more hours in the day."

Oh, and how right she was. This was thus far the best summer he had ever had, as a teacher or otherwise. Time to read, time to brew, time to sleep. All things he had never had copious amounts of. He had always had to allocate his time. But there was no reason to tell her that. Bloody Gryffindor. Who was she to think she saw into his life and personal affairs?

"Oh, there is something I very much wish for, Miss Granger," he told her slowly in his smoothest voice. The one he knew always made Sprout and Sinistra look twice. "Something I long for more than anything else."

Hermione answered, her voice strained as she hung on his every word. "And that is?"

"A day with peace and quiet away from insufferable know-it-alls!" He Vanished his empty plate before leaving the room, the effect somewhat diminished by his lack of billowing cape.

"Well, then," Hermione said. "Guess not everyone will be receiving their wish, will they?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Expect a chapter today and for the following four days. I get my computer time mostly when I am at work. There is a cute little man and his daddy who take up my time at home. :)

**Chapter Five**

Hermione was not ready to get out of bed.

The students weren't due to arrive for a few weeks yet, the sun was making a warm spot on her covers, and to top it off, her monthly had begun and she was out of her potion. That meant she was going to have to talk to Professor Snape, something she had been avoiding since the staff gathering.

She reached an arm out and grabbed the small satchel carrying her coins. There was quite a large monetary value contained in the fountain, but Hermione found that as soon a wish was fulfilled, the coin vanished. She wondered how many she could clear out of the fountain. A hundred? Two? A thousand? It was truly a life's work. And she didn't even know how fast they replenished.

Was it her life's work?

Hermione opened her satchel. The coins made a gentle tinkle as they spilled out onto the sun warmed bedspread. _Sickles and Galleons and Knuts, oh my!_ she couldn't help thinking These ones had come from the surface of the fountain, so they should be fairly recent. Occasionally she had an older one to weed out, but most had been thrown by people she was at least familiar with. The wizarding world was a small one after all.

It was strange to see all the wishes of her fellow classmates, Order members, and Ministry officials. A few shop owners, and others with last names she recognized. It was a little peek into their secret lives. She felt like an intruder, but obviously, the fountain had other ideas. But which one should she do next?

As she plucked out a few to add to her long-term pile, one Sickle with the name Minerva McGonagall caught her eye. The coin was at least forty years old, Hermione couldn't quite make out the date. And sure enough, it was for her grandmother's cake.

Hermione palmed the coin with a smile. Molly's cake really was quite good. She could only imagine how scrumptious Minerva's grandmother's cake had been. Surely in the entire castle, there had to be some resource overlooked. Perhaps she would ask a house-elf. They were able to make anything she could think of.

But first things first. These cramps were not subsiding on their own, which meant only one thing—with Madam Pomfrey on holiday, she was going to have to go talk to Professor Snape.

~~HGSS~~

"I'm just going to need a cauldron and a few supplies. I'll reimburse if needed."

"No, Granger," Snape snapped as he stepped in-between a few simmering cauldrons in his dark classroom lab. "Anything you need brewed you must clear with me. And then I will brew it for you. Probably twice as fast and with twice the effectiveness."

"First of all," Hermione told him, rising to the bait. She didn't realize her professor was enjoying getting a rise out of her, missing his time with his colleagues, "you know that I brew perfectly well for someone without any postgraduate training. Second of all, I'm not brewing anything dangerous, or costly, but it is personal, so I'm not telling you. Just tell me where you want me to set up, and I'll be out of your hair in an hour."

"Highly unlikely. I fear you're going to be in my hair for the foreseeable future. Tell me then, what ingredients will you need?"

"But you'll know what I'm brewing!"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The ingredients, Granger?"

She rattled off the list of fairly common herbs and unguents, her face reddening as it was clearly obvious what she was brewing.

"Add two stirs after the lacewing," Snape recommended. "It prolongs the effect."

Her head fell in embarrassment. "Yes, sir. May I brew then?"

"Drop the 'sir,' and pick a table," he snipped.

"Yes, s-. I mean, thanks, Severus."

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what had happened but she wasn't going to look a gift cauldron in the mouth. Perhaps she had crossed a line with him personally, and he wasn't comfortable with his informal relationship with her. She couldn't imagine he would want to think of a student and her monthly, but it wasn't like he wasn't a Head of House. Of course, he might just send for Madam Pomfrey.

Either way, she would take the relaxed atmosphere that had pervaded the room. Severus was brewing at his usual spot in the classroom, so Hermione took a table near the door to give him a bit of privacy and space.

But being Hermione, she couldn't help but chat a bit. At first he wouldn't respond, but eventually she teased out short sentences, which became long answers, and eventually, conversation.

"So what do you think about Minerva's wish?" Hermione asked nonchalantly.

Severus shrugged. "It's as good as any, I suppose."

"The cake does sound awfully good," she told him, remembering that she hadn't had breakfast yet. "I wonder if it's a commonly known recipe."

Snape was also reminded that he hadn't been down to the Great Hall before getting started on his research in the classroom. He had picked the classroom for its larger stores and space. His own lab was well and good for a small private project or when the students were about but there was no reason for him to stay locked away during the summer. He called an elf to bring a plate from the kitchens for the two of them.

"It reminds me of a cake my mother made when I was young," he confided. "Have you asked the elves? I find they can make near anything."

"That was my plan. I don't even know if the library has a section about cooking. It doesn't seem to be an important topic."

"Not amongst pure-bloods," Snape told her. "And for the rest of us, it's a subject mostly taught at home."

"Did your mother teach you to cook?" Hermione asked as she brought her cauldron slowly off the fire to cool. It needed to rest for a while before consumption.

Snape snorted. "Not so much. I watched her though. I didn't have much else to do, and it was one of a few things she seemed to enjoy. Sunday dinner was one meal to look forward to. There was enough money still from Friday's check to afford a roast or turkey, and she would often make a dessert to go with it. There was a cake she made that sounded much like the one the headmistress referred to, with cinnamon and nutmeg and a rich frosting."

"Do you have the recipe?" Hermione asked, eager, taking a bite of the toast provided.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he told her. His mother's cookbooks had never been objects of importance. "Her cookbooks are probably still exactly where they were when she died."

"Can I see them?" she blurted before thinking. Did she just ask Professor Snape —Severus now, but still Professor Snape —for entrance to his personal home?

"If you're asking to be invited to my house, Granger, the answer is no. No one should be invited to that sty. However, I can easily have some retrieved for you."

"Thank you!" she said cheerfully. "I'll be down after lunch!"

"Oh, joy."

~~HGSS~~

As expected, right after she finished her midday meal, Hermione was right back in the professor's classroom. A stack of old books, spirally bound, were on his desk but she dared not touch them until he returned. For some, cookbooks were sacred ground.

"Don't hold back on my account," said a voice behind her, causing her to jump. "Peruse at will. They are not charmed in any way. No magic allowed in my house, remember?"

"No, sir. Severus. I haven't really heard much about your upbringing. Just snippets here and here."

He raised his signature eyebrow but detected no falsehood. Potter really must have kept quiet. "My father did not care for magic," was all he told her. "The books are inherently Muggle."

"Oh, alright then." She took the top one off the stack and began to flip through, going straight for the dessert section.

Soon, however, she became distracted. Severus had obviously gotten his habit of taking notes in the margins and tweaking recipes from his mother. There were additions everywhere! Hermione was enthralled with this look inside the mind of a woman who knew her way around a kitchen and in turn, her extremely introverted professor. They were both very analytical, like Hermione herself.

"Could you take any longer, Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned the next page impossibly slow and chuckled as she heard him huff in annoyance. "If you are Severus, then you need to start calling me Hermione. And did you know she wrote in the margins like you do? This is like the Half-Blood Prince's Cookbook, it's fascinating!"

"Focus, _Hermione_. You did come down here for a reason," he stated dryly.

Hermione sighed and grabbed the next one in the pile, keeping at bay her childish impulse to continue aggravating him.

She found something promising in the third book. "This might be it!" she told Snape, who had grown silent while she looked. He stepped over to where she was working, leaning down to see the page in question.

It was covered with his mother's penmanship —not much better than her son's —and the book was yellowed with age. She pointed to the recipe she had found. "Was this it? What do you think?"

Severus ran over the list of ingredients in his head. "That does sound very much the same."

"Excellent! Can I borrow this?" Hermione stood up with the book, not realizing how close he was to her. He coughed as he inhaled a tuft of her hair. "Sorry," she lamented.

"Now you are literally up my nose. Be gone with you, and return the book when you're done."

"I will. Thanks!" Hermione scampered off with the book held tightly in her grasp, a prized possession.

Severus watched the door after she left. The room seemed much too quiet.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione found herself down in the kitchens, surrounded by the elves of Hogwarts. Most gave her a wide berth but Dobby saw her floundering and quickly set her up at a table with all of her needed ingredients. The cake didn't seem difficult. In fact, Hermione decided to make one, run it past Severus, and then, if it met with his approval, bring one to the headmistress herself. She hadn't exactly baked in quite some time and her time cooking over the campfire with the boys didn't count.

The Hogwarts kitchens really were splendid to work in, and it wasn't long before she found herself singing while tossing in extra cinnamon, currants, and raisins.

She grabbed a quick dinner while the cake baked, then stacked both tiers layered with a rich cream cheese frosting.

Of course she licked the bowl.

After making herself presentable, she rapped loudly on Severus's classroom door.

"What, Granger?" he growled from inside as the door crept open.

"Ta-da!" Hermione yelled, flourishing her cake proudly. It did look quite delicious. "How did you know it was me?"

"Who else would it be?" Severus asked as he dipped a finger in the frosting and brought it to his lips, even as Hermione tried to bat away his hand.

"Cretin," she told him as he licked the frosting off, and suddenly she had the impulse to feed him the frosting herself. _Hermione Jean!_ she thought. But then she decided that they were both consenting adults, he couldn't read her mind and it's not like anything would come of it anyway. She could think whatever she wanted.

But she should probably answer him if she didn't want to seem completely daft.

"I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

"I asked if you brought forks," he repeated slowly.

"Oh! Absolutely."

They set up a makeshift table on his desk, and she cut a generous slice of cake for each of them. Hermione had never had it before, but it was extremely good. Ginger and cinnamon, mixed with the raisins and currents, balanced the spicy with the bittersweet. It was all topped with the rich sugary frosting. She thought it had come out quite well, but Severus hadn't said anything.

"Well?" she finally broke in.

"Well what, Hermione? This does appear to be my mother's recipe, but then, they are all my mother's recipes."

"You are no help," she told him, exasperated.

He shrugged at her, not sure what she wanted. "The cook is adequate; as are all concoctions you turn in so you should know that."

"It's still nice to hear," she answered, cross.

"It's as good as my mother would make," he offered, slightly taken aback by the way she lit up. Apparently, that was the correct thing to say, and it was absolutely true. It really was quite good. "Are you bringing it to Minerva?"

She nodded. "I baked an extra, hoping it would turn out. I hope this is the right one. I asked the elves and they said that variations were popular during that time."

"It's been some years since she had the original, I'm sure she'll be pleased with your efforts. Here," he told her, reaching into a drawer in his desk. "Take this with you to aid in your endeavors."

It was his mother's cookbook. She clutched it to her chest. "But-"

"No buts. They haven't even been touched in twenty-five years. Take it."

Hermione looked to him with wide grateful eyes. Had Harry been present, she would have told her she looked like Dobby when given a sock. She was elated not only for the new, rare book, but also for the chance to get a glimpse at more of her professor through the writings of his mother. Plus she could actually bring a dessert to the Burrow she could be proud of. "Thank you," was all she could think of to say.

"Don't mention it. Now be gone. I have work to finish."

Once again, she took the book and ran, leaving the rest of the cake behind, which suited Severus nicely and he took another slice. Some things were just better made by human hands.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione stared at the gargoyle, who stared at her in return. She had no idea what the password was. "Ginger newts? Tartan sweater? Bonny lass? Oh come on, I have a special gift for the eadmistress!"

"Can I help you, Miss Granger?" asked Flitwick behind her. "Are you trying to see Minerva?"

"Yes! But I don't know the password."

"Oh, there isn't one during the summer. Just tell the gargoyle to open." He waved and left.

Hermione glared at the statue whom she swore smirked in return. "Open, you meddling creature."

The gargoyle slid back with a hiss, and she carried her cake upstairs.

"Headmistress?" she called as she neared the top.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione heard from the far side of the room where she saw Minerva step back from a bookcase. "Just Minerva, if you please. What can I help you with? Is the book coming along alright?"

"Yes, thank you. I came to bring you this." There was no reason to explain what "this" " was as she carried the large cake in front of her on a cake stand.

"And what is this for?" Minerva exclaimed. "More gifts from Molly?"

"No," Hermione told her. "I made this one. I found the recipe in one of Professor Snape's mum's cookbooks and I wondered if it was the one your grandmother used to make. The professor assures me it's quite good and I thought so as well."

"You didn't have to do this!" Minerva told her, taking the cake from her hands and placing it in the center of her desk. She poured them each a cup of tea and took a slice for herself after Hermione declined. Her eyes closed as she savored the bite. A deep sigh was the only sound she made for a long moment. "My grandmother would always serve us with a cup of Earl Grey. I can remember her little bone china cups with the tea roses painted on. This is perfect. I do hope you'll give me the recipe. You got this from Severus?" she said, shocked.

Hermione nodded. "He said his mother made something similar. He didn't know if it was the same but allowed me to look through her books for the recipe after a bit of cajoling."

"Severus…that sly fox. He never said anything!"

"That's the professor for you," she said.

"And isn't that the truth! Hermione, truthfully, I'm so thankful you found this. I really appreciate the extra effort you put in on my behalf. How ever did you know it was so important to me?"

"Well, it seemed like such an important thing when you spoke of it previously and, well…" Hermione debated telling her secret. It wasn't a bad secret, but she hadn't told anyone of finding the fountain. Maybe Minerva would know more than she did. She felt it was important to let her know. "…I found your coin in the Fountain of Erised."

Minerva gasped and sat back in her chair. "You found the fountain?" she repeated. "But I thought it was only legend! No one has seen the fountain in ages! It's thought that coins just get added magically."

"I didn't know of it at all," Hermione told her. "Not even in my research has it been mentioned. But I was walking the courtyard and a door opened and there it was. I took a few of the coins and since then, I've been trying to fulfill the wishes on the coins."

"You took the coins out of the courtyard?"

Hermione nodded. "I keep some of the more recent ones in a satchel in my room. Here is the one from you." She reached for the coin in her pocket to show her boss but as she opened her hand, it faded to dust. "And that's what happens when the wishes are fulfilled." She poured the sand out of her hand and watched it flow to the floor.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Minerva asked her softly. Hermione shook her head no.

"You're a Fairy Godmother."

**A/N:** Me again. This is based on a real cake, called a Hummingbird Cake with more traditional fruits added.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Professor?"

"Hmm?"

"What is Draco up to now?"

Severus was in an old, battered chair, nestled in a little corner of the staff lounge. It was late midday and he had come in here for a bit of afternoon light, something not found in his dungeon chambers. And perhaps for a bit of company, not that he would admit it. Solitude was still his preferred state, but a bit of intellectual conversation on occasion was tolerable.

This particular afternoon found only Hermione in the large room with him. She had come in with a few oversized tomes from the library detailing some ancient fact or another about Hogwarts that she was happily noting in her notebook. They were laid out on the table nearest to his chair, ostensibly to take advantage of the large westerly facing windows. Her back was to him and the mostly ignored each other in what was proving to be a pleasant afternoon.

Until she asked about Draco. Severus was always a bit tense when it came to his involvement with the boy.

"Are you so daft that you have forgotten my name? My, my, Hermione, I thought the resident know-it-all never forgot anything, if your behavior in my class was anything to go by."

Hermione's hackles rose, but she wasn't going to rise to the bait. She had seen enough of her professor lately to know when he was just trying to put her off the scent.

"A thousand apologies, _Severus_," she told him without turning around. "How has Draco been?"

"And why would you care to know?" Snape's voice dripped with derision. It was clear exactly what his opinion was of the Trio and his Slytherins. Forced to protect them since their first day of school, he didn't stop protecting them once they left.

At the callous sound of her almost-friend, Hermione turned around and sat backward in her chair, crossing her arms over the back rest. "I'm curious because I care. I won't lie to you and tell you I'm a fan of his father, but the last year has shown me a little bit about what Draco's life was like. I don't envy him his past, and I was just wondering if he is doing okay."

"Draco has…not been well," Severus told her simply, feeling that she was telling him the truth, as she always seemed to do. "Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban, as you know. Draco has felt the loss."

Hermione thought back to all of Draco's posturing from the first time he saw Harry on the train. In truth she had thought a lot about him lately. Had it all been to impress the stern elder Malfoy? Lucius had led a life walking a fine line between bringing prestige and demise to his family. What had he demanded from Draco in return? His mother doted on her son and was clearly affectionate, but it's possible Draco had never held that same connection with his father.

In fact, the coin currently in Hermione's pocket told her much the same. It was from their sixth year at Hogwarts, and it was a solid gold Galleon. The passion he had felt at the time it was cast was strong —all Draco wanted was to be accepted by his father. Was the need still as poignant? Had they ever reconciled?

"How does he get along with Lucius?" she asked. "I imagine their relationship was strained as Draco grew up, if his behavior is anything to go by. Were they able to make amends once the Dark Lord was gone?"

Severus shook his head. "No. There was never time for it. By the time the bodies were cleared away and buried, Lucius was in jail. Draco seldom writes, from what I gather from my own correspondence with Lucius. We were never exactly friends but he does care about his son, in his own way. Perhaps in a few years, once he has been released, he will be able to start fresh with Draco."

"If it isn't too late," Hermione said softly.

She turned back to her own research, her mind only half on the subject as she pondered how it felt to be estranged from a parent.

~~HGSS~~

The paper beneath her hands was heavy, a fine grain in light cream. Her Muggle ink pen was in her hand, the black ink waiting her command. But she had never written a letter like this one and was uncertain where to begin.

The issue with Draco and Lucius wouldn't leave Hermione be. Several other coins were on her mind to be fulfilled but whenever she reached into her bag, this was the first one she grabbed. Almost as if it was calling to her. She obviously couldn't go see Mr. Malfoy and it didn't feel right just showing up on Draco's doorstep so she decided to draft a letter to Lucius.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I realize I'm probably the last person from whom you'd expect to receive a letter from…_

Hermione wrote her heart out into the letter, asking Lucius to talk to his son. She explained that she had heard that the two were never able to reconcile after the war, and that Draco missed his father. Was there any way that he would be willing to forgive his son for not being like his father? She told him that she had long forgiven Draco for his part in what happened and wished only for his happiness.

She hoped he didn't take her letter as too forward and dismiss it. Admittedly at first, she hadn't thought much about her former classmate with everything else happening, but once she'd had the time to sit down and think over his course of action over the years, it was easy to see his motivation. He'd had few options at his disposal and for all he was an arrogant prat, he really could have done much worse. He was not able to kill the Headmaster, and he didn't give up Harry when he had the opportunity. There seemed to be more bark than bite, and if gaining acceptance from his father bought bring him some happiness, then perhaps he would be free to focus on making a new name for himself instead of trying to follow in the old footprints.

Hermione went about her normal business while she waited for the owl to return. Who knew how long it took for a letter to be received and returned when the correspondent was in Azkaban? For all she knew, he was only allowed post on certain days and she might be waiting a while.

Her work re-editing uHogwarts – A History/u was as close to a dream job as she could imagine. Free reign to wander Hogwarts, spend as much time in the library as she chose, and formally suggest all the edits she had questioned for years. On top of that, she could personally oversee the addition of the Second Wizarding War so that it was as accurately portrayed as possible.

She was so caught up her work that the owl from Minerva was almost an unwelcome distraction, but she pulled herself away shortly to have tea with her mentor.

When she arrived and got settled with a cup, Minerva pulled a worn leather book from her desk drawer and set it in front of Hermione. It was obviously very old and had been quite neglected. The gold gilded letters were chipped on the weathered tan calf skin.

Being a Godmother was all the letters said.

"There hasn't been a godmother at Hogwarts, oh, at least since before my time. I don't know how much of this book is true and how much is just handed down tales like the fairy tales you heard in the Muggle world. You know since learning that you are a witch, that some of the stories you heard in your youth have a kernel of truth that was distorted when it crossed from our world to yours. As far as being a Godmother, I'm not sure what's fact and what's legend."

Hermione slid the book in front of her and opened the cover carefully. There was an table of contents indicating that the book would tell her about traditions, Godmothering history, becoming a Godmother, practices and more.

"What do you know about it? Are Godmothers strictly at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, the tingle in her fingers making her itch to grab the book and sequester herself in a quiet corner But there was wisdom in researching all of available sources and for her, that included Minerva.

"There is only one Godmother per fountain, as far as I'm aware. I believe there are three fountains. One here, one in a shrine in China, and the other in the Everglades in the States. There is rumor of one in South America, but I don't think it's been confirmed. There isn't always someone for each fountain, however. Only when the right person is born and several centuries can pass between them. In the past, Godmothers would focus on a single person or a handful of people as more of a mentor, but now some attempt to grant as many wishes as they can, more like benevolent aunts with their magic."

"Are they always women?" Hermione asked.

Minerva nodded. "Always. And the holder of the mirror is always male."

"Who is the current owner of the mirror?" Hermione asked but Minerva didn't know its whereabouts after Harry discovered it. She didn't even know if it had been Dumbledore's in the first place.

"So, always women and always magic but there isn't always a Godmother?" Hermione questioned, and Minerva nodded.

Minerva refilled their tea but before she could continue, an owl flew through the window. She held out her hand to receive him but he went to Hermione instead, leg outstretched. Hermione took the parchment and realized it was from Azkaban. Lucius apparently didn't have paper because his letter was penned on the back of hers. Minerva was clearly curious but Hermione just quietly pocketed the letter and told the woman it was from a friend.

Minerva cleared her throat and continued. "A Godmother is born, but they aren't always realized. A girl is born with the potential. Perhaps she has some latent abilities. Things have a tendency to work out for her, or she is extra powerful. Obviously that combined with your natural precocious tendencies made you the top of your class," she told her with a smile making Hermione blush. "But according to the book, a girl has to find the fountain and that doesn't always happen. And you have to be mature enough to be accepted."

Hermione nodded. "Which explains why I never found the fountain before. I was too young."

"It was probably the experiences of the war that made you into the person needed to be a Godmother. Who knows if you ever would have realized the potential had you not returned."

Hermione flipped through a few pages of the book, glancing at the illuminated illustrations. It seemed as though she didn't get a choice over the Godmother thing. And she wasn't sure where the fairy part fit in. Was she even a Fairy Godmother or just a Godmother? Hopefully the book would have more answers.

She thanked Minerva for the tea, who in turn thanked her again for finding her grandmother's recipe.

Back down in her room, she settled in and opened the letter from Lucius. She wondered if he was just out of stock of writing materials or wasn't allowed them to begin with. Thankfully, she had left plenty of space on the backside of her letter for him to write on.

"Miss Granger," began his simple salutation. He went on to commend her "Gryffindor tendencies" for plucking up the courage to write him. It was true he hadn't been able to speak to his son and that communication with him had been stilted at best. It seemed it hadn't really occurred to him that the reason Draco hadn't written was because he was intimidated or felt as though his father wouldn't want to hear from him.

_Was it really that much of a shock that Draco would feel as though he was a disappointment?_ Hermione wondered. But perhaps sometimes one needs someone on the outside to see things to which one is blinded. Lucius had been under a lot of pressure, what with his social status and trying to cater to a psychopath, Hermione thought wryly. Nothing but his own choices, but maybe he had been so busy protecting his son, he forgot to connect with him. Hopefully, this would give them both a second chance.

She read through the letter a second time. Lucius said that he would reach out to Draco and that hopefully Draco had someone he could rely on until Lucius was out of prison. Hermione wondered if Severus would be willing to talk to him, but she wasn't sure how close he was with the former student. Perhaps she would ask if given the chance. The salutation at the end, however, made her giggle and vow to search Severus out straightaway.

"Severus?" she called as she neared where she knew his rooms were located. "Severus?"

She heard a clatter behind the door that led to his personal rooms and lab. After a sharp knock, a harried Severus opened the door to find the little minx standing there, waving a letter in his face.

"Can I help you, Hermione? Attempting to decipher the poor grammar of your friends and need some assistance?" he inquired, his response laced with sarcasm.

Hermione elbowed her way past him, leaving a surprised Severus to watch the pretty young woman make herself at home. "Have you spoke to Lucius lately?" she asked.

"I haven't had any correspondence from him lately, no," he answered but Hermione was too quick for him.

"Ah, ah. I asked if _you_ have spoken to Lucius lately, not if he has spoken to you."

"You've been spending too much time with Slytherins," he grumbled.

"Only you," she told him.

Cheeky. "Yes, I've written to him recently. Why do you ask?"

"Well," she said, crossing her legs in his favorite chair, "I just received an answer back to the letter I wrote to him."

"And?"

"And he tells me that there is no reason for the two of us to tag team him. That we have enough tenacity individually to force a captive man to follow our bidding and that to gang up on him is just cruel. What do you suppose he means?" she asked with false innocence. "I certainly haven't orchestrated anything with you."

Blast Lucius and his inability to keep his mouth shut. And blast Lucius and his ability to see straight through to things that were other people's business. Severus was honest enough with himself to admit that perhaps Hermione wasn't the pesky wench he thought she was. In fact, it was possible she was becoming more than tolerable. Her unwavering support and cheerful chatter were dangerous to man like himself.

He found he was giving more consideration to the things she told him, whether it was about the state of affairs with Draco, or whether it was that the lamb was excellent that evening. Trust was beginning to form between them in their fragile friendship, though he doubted he knew just what plan she was fostering, and that was probably better for them both.

When she had broached the subject of Lucius and Draco, he felt it a part of his duty as the boy's Head of House to write his father, even if the boy was not technically a part of the school any longer. It was hard to just stop protecting and caring about someone who had needed so much attention in the past. Draco had needed as much of him as Harry had, and for much the same reason. Both boys had a penchant for finding themselves in trouble. He implored Lucius to tell Draco just how much his son meant to him and to take his second chance at being a father. He made sure to let him know there wasn't exactly anything else pressing on his plate at the moment. He hadn't received a letter back yet. It seemed as though Hermione ranked higher than he did. Probably because Lucius knew Severus would be mum about it, and Hermione would have to tease him. Could Lucius ferret out his feelings from just a simple coincidence?

"Perhaps great minds just think alike, Severus?"

"Not bloody likely," Severus said, in a foul mood at the thought that his little secret was now uncovered. There was no way he could have known that the chit would write a letter to Lucius, her tormentor, over a boy that was merely her classmate and an utter git to her while in school.

Surely, Lucius would see that as well.

"Well, I think it's fair to say we both have pretty staggering minds and we did both come to the next logical step so I think you're going to have to concede defeat. Come, let's walk up to the Great Hall. The Wellington has been smelling fantastic all afternoon and it's about time for dinner."

With a scowl, Severus grabbed his robe and followed her out the door.

A few days later, Hermione noticed the shiny Galleon with Draco's name was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I love all of the thought provoking reviews I'm getting. Remember, it's your way to talk to me. Have a question? I'll answer to the best of my non-spoilering ability! :)

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione was able to make several Knuts disappear without much effort. She had a measure of disposable income so she used it for a bag of Every Flavor Beans, a new quill, a set of dress robes, and a few other things that were desperately sought after by some of Hogwarts' students. Most of these requests seemed fairly recent. Hermione assumed it was because the older ones had faded as they were fulfilled through other means or the desire simply was resolved.

But the students arriving on the train in a few days time would be very happy indeed when some of their smaller wants and desires were going to be granted by their own Fairy Godmother.

She packaged up a few last-minute items to bring to the owls. The new packaging had a little flair but was completely anonymous so that people knew they were receiving a gift but not her name. She didn't know if she was supposed to give that information out or stay a secret—or if she wanted to be known either way. It was nice working behind the scenes. It was what she did best.

But some wishes took more of an effort to fulfill and went beyond just a sweet or a letter. Her next wish was one of those.

"Professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked the man a week before the term began, "I'd like to ask for your assistance with something."

"Certainly, if I can. Is this in regards to the book?" he asked as he showed her to a chair in his office.

"Well, no," she hedged. "The book is actually coming along great, but I've been working on a side project and I think I'm going to need your help."

"Is this about being a Godmother?"

Hermione panicked. "I didn't think she would say anything!"

Flitwick waved his hands at her. "Calm down,child. Minervahasn't told anyone but me. She is planning on making me deputy when term begins, did you know that? We tried to convince Severus, but he understandably wasn't interested. Minerva informed me we are once again graced with a Godmother so that I would be informed if anything strange happened. You do know that strange things have a tendency to follow Godmothers?"

"I've been figuring that out," Hermione told him meekly.

"Have you received your dress yet?"

"I get a dress?"

"Oh yes," Flitwick told her, growing animated. "Each is different and reflects the witch's personally. You never know when it will show up, so keep a lookout. You'll have to show us when you get it!"

_Not bloody likely_, Hermione thought, the familiar words of her former professor coming back to her. Right now she was perfectly happy staying a secret.

And she didn't even want to think about the remarks if Severus saw her in a big puffy fairy godmother dress.

"What is it then that you need my help with? Is it in regards to a wish?"

"It is, actually. For someone here in the castle."

"Oh, give me all the details!" he asked eagerly.

~~HGSS~~

The Headmistress was also easy to persuade but the elves were a little more difficult. They were still wary of her and any endeavors she was planning. She pleaded with them but they politely ignored her, telling her they were Hogwarts Elves and they only look direction from the professors, not from Missy.

Eventually Minerva followed her down and explained to them what they were going to do. The plan was to help one of the residents of the castle, to serve and to make him happy. Little effort would be required of the house-elves, not that they minded of course, and in return it would fulfill a special wish.

After being assured clothes were not involved, the elves were also on board.

The last obstacle was the portraits. Their cooperation was vital for Hermione's plan to succeed. She asked for help from as many as possible, receiving their agreement to assist and their consent to be silent. Everyone knew that the quickest way for word to spread through the castle was through the portraits.

It was with the portraits that Hermione most needed Professor Flitwick's help. She wasn't even going to try to alter a charmed portrait with another charm. That was master-level work, and she would be in big trouble if she got it wrong. They had a Charms master in residence—a Charmer, as Flitwick frequently reminded them was the official title. Better if it was left up to him.

A few portraits were made to appear ravished, as though someone had come through in haste, or had stopped to set a building on fire, knock over a table, or create general chaos. The portraits themselves were happy to assist with some of the destruction. It wasn't often they were given anything to do. General merriment was the feeling amongst them as they pillaged and destroyed.

The following morning, Hermione woke up early and went to her designated space. A seldom used room, up in a tower, of course. Where else would a fair maiden be? She charmed ropes around her ankles and wrists, bound a gag over her mouth, then lay down to wait.

~~HGS~~

"Cadogan!" came the desperate cry, echoing off the stone walls. "Sir Cadogan!"

The little knight was polishing his helmet when he heard the plea. Was that the Headmistress? Surely, the madam herself wouldn't need him, or would she? Was there something she needed that required a chivalrous knight? A quest? A damsel in distress?

Grabbing his helmet under his arm, he hopped astride his fat little pony who whinnied in protest. "Onward, Blossom! Heed the call of feminine despair!" He nudged the pony forward with his heel and soon they were off at a gallop through the startled portraits.

"I am here, madam!" he called as he leapt off his pony with a bit of a stumble in front of Minerva. "What can Sir Cadogan do for you?"

"I have a quest to lie at your feet, brave knight!" Minerva told him, laying on the plan thick. "A fair and virtuous maiden has been stolen by a villain! A dark man transformed into a dragon and swept her off into the highest tower! Only a stalwart knight and his loyal steed will be able to save her from certain ruin!"

"I will answer yourcall, dear madam!" Sir Cadogan told Minerva with his sword held high. It had been his destiny when he was amongst the living to free a maiden from a beast far more terrible than a dragon. It took her into its castle far across the land. Cadogan faithfully followed, sacrificing sleep and shelter to bring the lady home to her father before any harm befell her. Alas, he was slain by the creature, only seeing that the woman was alive before he perished. He awoke again as a portrait here in the school, being honored for his contribution in attempting to save the daughter of one of the school's patrons, Rowena Ravenclaw.

The Baron had gone after Helena Ravenclaw_**,**_ who stole her mother's diadem and escaped to Albania. He took her into his own house to try and convince her to return to her mother and homeland. Her mother was dying, and when the Baron didn't return in haste, Cadogan was sent to find them. The Baron killed him, afraid he was a lover of Helena or would try to take her away, before killing them both.

It had always plagued the knight that he had failed in such an important task. And then seeing them both in the halls of the school as ghosts drove him nearly mad. He vowed to never fail another undertaking.

But another opportunity never came.

Until now.

"I will rescue the maiden if it's the last thing I do! No dragon will scare away this knight! Where was she last seen?"

Minerva pointed down the hall to a painted house on fire. "There is where she was taken from!" she shouted and soon Sir Cadogan and his little pony were off at a full run.

The villagers were gathered around the house and explained to Cadogan what happened.

"She was walking through the hall," said one.

"When a dark stranger snatched her!" said another and a third interrupted, "He turned into a dragon before our eyes and flew off down the corridor after setting our house on fire!"

"Who knows what trouble awaits any who are valiant enough to go after him!" the first added, remembering the script they had talked about.

They pointed Cadogan down the hall to where the painted rampage was evident. He raced through frame after frame to follow the path of destruction.

"But wait!"

Suddenly there was a house-elf in the hallway, waving his hands for attention.

"You must find the gate!"

"What gate?" asked Cadogan, pulling up on his pony.

The elf covered his mouth as though telling a secret. "I shouldn't tell! The creature will be very angry if you find his magical gateway, leading to the tower with the maiden!"

"Tell me, Elf, I command you! I am Sir Cadogan of the Round Table! I will keep your secret and assure your safety!"

"You will find a secret passage in the jungle painting at the base of the tallest tower! It is only by defeating the guardian and entering the gate that you will find the villain and the maiden!"

"I will find this gateway and the guardian will be no match for the likes of me! I have only been defeated once and it shall not happen again!"

Cadogan began his search for the gateway. The jungle painting was known to him, as were most of the paintings in the castle. He had been there for hundreds of years, wandering the halls. It was far from him, however, and the traveling would not be easy. Many of the paintings were filled with debris and chaos and the residents flocked to other unharmed portraits, gathering together to talk about the travesty.

He felt every bit the knight as he followed his quest, soothing the agitated portraits and restoring a bit of peace before traveling on in search of Hermione.

When the large jungle scene finally came into view, Cadogan gave a shout and hurried his pony on.

As he was racing around the corner through each of the pictures in between, Snape came down the hall and paused to watch the half-crazed little knight on his rotund pony. What could he possibly be doing? The knight had done some strange things over the years; Snape could clearly remember him patrolling the castle all night long when it was rumored Sirius Black had found a way in.

The knight had been fairly quiet while Voldemort was in control of the castle, occasionally threatening the Carrows and others, but they laughed it off. What could a silly portrait do? But now he was clearly disturbed, something must have set him off, and Snape was bound and determined to find out what it was.

Cadogan drew up to the jungle and hit the ground running. The gate was hidden behind a copse of trees, not easily seen by the human eye, far back in the painting. He pulled on the door, but it would not budge. Snape watched as he pulled again with all of his might but the door did not give an inch.

"Confounded door! I shall rig Blossom to your handle and pull you into splinters! Nothing shall impede my quest for the fair maiden!" Cadogan shouted at the unyielding gateway.

"A key!" hollered a little elf that popped into existence at Snape's side. "I believe a key must be found to open the door! Only a certain magical key can do the trick!"

Snape looked down to the little elf with his brow raised. "To complete the quest!" the elf told him, which in fact told him practically nothing.

"You are correct. A key most certainly is what is needed! Warrior!" Cadogan called to Snape in the shadows. "Are you aware of the location of the key in question?"

Severus took in the situation. Clearly Cadogan was on the trail of something, and it seemed rather important if the elves were aware of it as well. Yet strangely, he had heard nothing.

"_An eye in a blue face_

_Saw an eye in a green face,_

_"That eye is like to this eye"_

_Said the first eye,_

_"But in low place,_

_Not in high place_."

Severus quoted Tolkien to the painting, confident the ancient wizard would not be versed in modern Muggle literature.

"Ah, a rogue! Speak thee plain! A maiden's virtue hangs in the balance!" cried Cadogan.

"But what honor is in a quest if the path is freely given and not hard won?" asked Snape.

Cadogan nodded. "You speak true, rogue. I shall seek the answer at once!" He leapt upon the poor pony, who was clearly ready to call it a day, and nudged her down a long hallway, filled with portraits eager to play their part.

Severus watched as he disappeared and turned to the elf. "What exactly is going on?"

"Binx cannot say! Binx is a bad elf for revealing the quest to one who was not informed! Bad elf!" Binx grabbed the stone wall and began to smash his face against the stones. "Bad! Bad!"

"Binx! I command you to cease and as a Head of House you must obey!" Snape told the elf in his very stern, not impressed tone of voice. The elf quit immediately. "I was simply ensuring you were staying to your orders. You behaved as a good elf. Please go scrub the cauldrons in my personal lab as a reward for your behavior."

"The cauldrons?" asked Binx, tears wobbling in his wide eyes. "In your _personal_ lab? Oh, thank you, sir!" The elf snapped his fingers and disappeared.

"Pesky creature," Snape mumbled, now on his own to ferret out what the commotion was about. It was something to do with the jungle painting, but as far as he was aware, nothing of interest surrounded its existence. He stood with his arms folded when he heard it. The soft, faint cry of a young woman. She was shouting for help. Was this who Cadogan was looking for?

The entrance to the tower may have been blocked for a painting but it wasn't for a human. Snape barreled through the door andran up the stairs, two or three at a time. He reached the top of the Astronomy tower out of breath, his heart pounding from the exertion as well as the panic. He had no idea who or what was holding the girl captive. Could something have entered the school? Was it trying to lay in wait for the students who would be returning the day after tomorrow but came instead upon the nosy know-it-all? Because it could only be her who screamed for help, it surely wasn't the melodic tones of an irate Scotswoman.

"Hermione?" he huffed, finally seeing her, bound on the floor and blessedly alone.

She groaned and dropped her head to the floor, unable to talk through the gag.

Severus paused to recover his breath, seeing that she was in no immediate danger. He couldn't help but notice the position her vulnerability had left her in.

Her golden curls spread out on the floor in a fan. Her back was arched with her hands bound underneath her, leaving her chest on display as it rose and fell with her rough breathing. The sight of the binds on her arms and legs made him suck in a huge breath of air, which had nothing to do with his recent exertion.

How he would love to tie her hands and feet with silk ribbons, binding her tight on her knees, his fist in her hair, pulling her head back while she…

Severus shook his head. There was a time and place for such thoughts. Preferably alone in his rooms and not in front of the object of his fantasies, his desire on clear display for any who dared to look.

"Apologies for my pause, Hermione. I drew up the stairs in quite a rush, afraid for your safety." He made short work of her bindings and gag.

"No! No! Tie me up! Tie me back up quickly!" Hermione frantically exclaimed when she could speak.

"Whatever for? I don't know who did this to you but-"

"Just do it! Now!" she yelled, and he hurriedly complied.

As he used his wand to refasten her ropes, he told her, "As you bid. I wish I could have done this years ago," and cinched her gag as she huffed her annoyance.

At just that moment, the clatter could be heard of Cadogan entering the scene on his wiped-out little pony.

"Rogue! It was you who cast off with the fair maiden! I knew you were treacherous! Unhand her this instant. We shall have a duel, you scurvy cad! Pestiferous rampallian! You won't escape this time!"

Cadogan continued his verbal assault on Snape, brandishing his over-sized sword and challenging him to come at his painting like a man and not a lily-livered princox.

"What is he on about?" he asked Hermione, who glared at him, unable to speak around her gag. "Can I untie you now?" She nodded and he proceeded to undo the work he had just accomplished.

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione shouted in an exaggerated voice. "You have found me and defeated the villain!"

Severus gave her a questioning look, and she elbowed him in his side. "Play along," she whispered.

"Indeed!" he told the painting. "I cannot try to outwit such a cunning and brave knight as Sir Cadogan." He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

Hermione beamed at him. He still wasn't sure what was going on but it was apparently the right thing.

"You have won my admiration forever," she told the knight. "Now go into the Great Hall where there is a feast in your honor!"

"I shall leave you a place at my side, fair maiden!" Cadogan told her triumphantly. "Just call on Sir Cadogan if this wretched barnacle gives you any trouble! I shall alert the Headmistress at once to come to your aid!"

"Thank you," Hermione told him again and the little knight and his wee pony galloped off with their colors flying.

"What in the bloody buggering fuck was that?"

"Such language!" Hermione scolded. "We thought it might be a bit of fun to stage a quest for Sir Cadogan before the start of term," she told him, which was really a partial truth and so not a lie at all. "He has always wanted to save the maiden and we were getting a bit complacent. Minerva and Professor Flitwick both helped."

"And dare I ask what would have happened if I had not been present to play the part of villain?"

"Oh! That's right, I almost forgot. I'll show you. It's really a great piece of charmwork." Hermione stomped her foot twice against the stone floor. Suddenly, a large roaring dragon appeared, writhing like the dragon in a Chinese parade. Fire shot from its mouth as it roared, shooting up in the air only to burst into bright fireworks.

"It's all run by house-elves!" Hermione told him proudly. "They were supposed to disappear when he brandished his sword."

The elves were clearly enjoying themselves. The flames and fireworks fell around them as they stood together on top of the Astronomy tower, lighting up the night sky with their display.

It was, in all, a job well done.

**A/N:** This chapter really made me giggle, but it did give me fits, so extra love to **Araeofsomething** for helping me work it out.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Wow. Guess you guys really liked chapter seven! Thanks for the reviews! I love to hear your speculations!

**Chapter Eight **

Hermione sat in the Great Hall and watched the Welcoming Feast. She wasn't sure how long her residence in the castle would last, but it would at least extend another few months. It was possible it would last until the headmistress kicked her out. The history of Hogwarts was vast.

At some point, she would have to ask Minerva if her status as a Godmother interfered with the fountain being at Hogwarts. Would she have to stay in the castle or nearby in Hogsmeade or would it follow her? Who knew how this fairy magic worked?

And why was she a fairy godmother anyway?

But for now, she had her comfortable suite to call home in the happiest place she knew. She sat at the High Table, far at the end of the professors, moving Professor Snape in one seat. He was no longer the newest person in the castle. She sat on one end, Neville on the other, both watching the impossibly small first years come through the magnificent set of doors for the Sorting ceremony.

She looked around the hall at the returning students present. Almost everyone was there. A few students had perished in the battle, but it was thankfully few. Luna was there, sitting with her friends, and the Creeveys were introducing themselves to the new Gryffindors. More than once she heard about the battle and the name Harry Potter.

As was becoming habit, Hermione's hand played in the little coin pouch at her side, the smooth, cool bits of metal sliding through her fingers. So many people, she thought. Most of them just needed a little push. A kind act. A Godmother.

Would Harry and Ron ever know they'd had one at their side for years?

Her hand pulled out a few of the coins in her purse and she peered down at them discretely under the table.

The one on top was Colin's.

Hermione sighed.

Colin was a well-meaning and enthusiastic classmate but there were times he drove Hermione absolutely nuts. However she didn't think being a Godmother came with stipulations for obnoxious individuals. Everyone deserved to have their wish.

Even Colin.

She squinted against the glare of the candelabra on the slightly mottled Galleon. "I wish to spend a whole day with Harry Potter."

Hermione sighed again.

Of course he did. She supposed she should be thankful that it was something that would be easy for her to accomplish but she was pretty sure she was going to have to guilt Harry into it, maybe even call in one of the hundreds of favors he owed her. She was becoming hesitant to bring anyone else into her wish fulfillment. Each one was a chance at being discovered. She preferred to remain discretely benevolent.

She dumped all the coins back in her purse, swished them around, and grabbed just one out.

Colin's.

There was no getting around it then. She would have to owl Harry.

~~HGSS~~

An owl turned out not to be needed as Hermione was invited to lunch at the Burrow that weekend. Not being actual staff of the school, she could come and go as she pleased and eagerly accepted the invitation.

Soon her good mood dissipated as she encountered Harry's resistance. "Please, Harry? It's just for a day," she pleaded.

"But he's annoying!" exclaimed Ron before swallowing his bite of pie.

"You're annoying!" shot back Hermione, wondering what exactly she had ever seen in him. She loved him like a brother, but honestly, he really could be, well, Ron. "But that doesn't mean we don't want to be friends with you or hang around you."

"Thanks, Hermione," he told her. "You know how to make a bloke feel special."

She sighed. Again. She had been doing that a lot lately. Being a Godmother wasn't all smiles and foolish wand-waving. "Colin has always looked up to you, Harry. He is one of the biggest supporters you have, if not the biggest. And you've always given him the brush off. It seems like he's been having a hard time since he's come back to the school. Yesterday when I came out of the library, I saw him just standing in the hallway where that sixth-year died. It would really boost his spirits if you, I don't know, invited him for a game of Quidditch or something. He never got a chance to tryout with everything that happened."

Harry glared at her, and she knew she'd won. "One day, that's all I ask. And we'll forget about one of the assignments I've done for you."

"Great," said Harry with false cheer. "Now I'll only owe you for most of the rest of my life."

Hermione smiled. "Don't worry, I'm sure I can come up with more things for you to do for me," she said and tousled his hair before taking a big bite of her own pie.

~~HGSS~~

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!"

Hermione blearily looked up from her morning toast. "Yes, Colin?"

"I just got a letter from Harry! Harry Potter actually wrote to me!"

"Good to know the skills he learned are being put to good use," Severus muttered beside her and she nudged him.

"That's excellent, Colin. What did he want?" Hermione asked politely.

Colin held up his letter. "He is coming to the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match and wants to know if I'll sit with him! Like he even has to ask! I'll have to decide which camera to bring!"

Hermione cringed. Poor Harry, stuck with Colin literally sticking a camera in his face. "I'm sure lots of people will be taking pictures. Maybe you can leave yours behind so that you can really enjoy the game."

"Harry doesn't bring a camera," said Colin seriously, "so maybe I should leave mine behind too. I'll have to think about it. Thanks, Hermione!"

"Anytime," she said to the small retreating boy and nibbled at her toast.

"Friend of yours?" Snape asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Of a sort. Worships Harry."

"I know. We _all_ know," Severus told her before leaving the table, leaving her wondering what else the teachers talked about during the school year.

When the big day came, Hermione dragged herself out to the field. She really didn't mind casually watching the game. It was more the intense competitiveness that boggled her. But she couldn't turn down a chance to be out with her friends in the beautiful early autumn air.

Or the chance to maybe have a reason to cast a glance at the teacher's box on occasion.

Soon, Hermione realized that Harry and Ron weren't pestering her at all. They hadn't asked if she saw a certain feint or the Hufflepuff boy who was just hit with a bludger. Her side of the bench was quite quiet. She could have even brought a book for a change if she wanted.

Harry laughed at her side and slapped a laughing Colin on the back. "You're right, they don't stand a chance this year. What do you think of the barrel roll from Anderson? That could be a major factor this season."

"Oh definitely. From what I've seen in practice, none of the other players have anything that will stand up to it. I wish I had my camera to show you. When he decides to…"

Hermione tuned out Colin and just watched the scene unfold. Harry and Ron seemed to be genuinely enjoying Colin's company, joking, chatting, going over strategy and pointing out certain signature plays. Colin really had seemed quite down when he came back to the castle and it was refreshing for a moment to see things as they may have been if the previous year hadn't happened.

"Would you guys like to come up to the Gryffindor common room?" asked Colin, eagerly. No doubt he would love to bring in Ron and Harry to show the first years. Hermione was old news, and truthfully never was as interesting.

The boys surprisingly agreed. Hermione wondered if it was because they wanted to hang out with Colin longer or if they just wanted to see their dorm again, but either way, they followed him up to the Fat Lady.

"Wonder quest at the start of term!" exclaimed the Fat Lady. "I haven't had that much fun in years!"

"What?" asked Harry, confused.

"Oh, yes, um, password?" asked the Fat Lady, winking at Hermione.

Colin shrugged at the boys. "Pesky Pixie."

Once inside, they were mobbed by former classmates and tiny first years.

Colin sat down next to Hermione on the couch while Ron and Harry greeted some friends. He had brought his camera down from his room and was taking a few photos. "I really wish I'd would have had this earlier to catch some of the action, but you're right. I had a really great afternoon just being able to talk to Harry. He's so…normal."

"You'd be surprised at just how normal he is," Hermione told him. Having met him before she even knew who he was, her hero worship had died almost as soon as it had started. Beating Harry at pretty much everything in the classroom helped, and then spending the year in a tent with him sealed it. There was nothing he could do to impress her anymore. "He likes beans on toast. All of his socks have holes, and he had to wear his cousin's hand-me-downs to school for years until he could go shopping on his own. He's just a regular guy."

"But amazing," Colin told her reverently.

"Sometimes," Hermione agreed.

She felt a little left out as the boys sat and rehashed the game, but more surprised that the three really got on together. It turned out that Colin was pretty normal himself once his camera was out of his hands and Harry had been knocked off his pedestal. She quietly slipped out the door and went to the library.

In the week since the students had returned, Hermione had accomplished almost nothing. Now that they were back in school, and after the rocky year they had just had, many students were taking the opportunity to freshen up and study in the library. That, coupled with the Muggleborns who hadn't been able to attend the previous year, meant that the library was the busiest place on campus, next to the Great Hall at dinner.

She took advantage of no longer being a student and used the library after hours, but that didn't give her near the same amount of time she had been used to over the summer. During the days, she walked the halls, making notes on curious passages on the portraits, interesting art or furniture, and any passages that she hadn't covered in her school days.

But with the first Quidditch game of the year now over, Gryffindor would be celebrating their victory and Hufflepuff would be licking their wounds, so at least two of the houses would have vacated the library. Hopefully it would be quiet enough now for her to work, and empty enough for her to find a table.

Laden with her current research material, she found an empty table near the back. Setting the large stack next to her, she sat down and got to business with her Muggle notebook and pen.

Before long, she heard the chair on the opposite side near the end of the table scrape along the wooden floor. She frowned and peeked to see who was going to interrupt her peace and quiet.

Professor Snape, for he was in full Professor Mode now in his black and buttons, shot a short look back at her before cracking the spine on his book. She quickly ducked back behind her stack. Why did she feel like she wanted to panic?

It wasn't as though she hadn't seen him nearly every day for weeks. Not in those robes every day, of course. And not surrounded by students. But they had settled into an uneasy friendship.

She would leave him to his reading for now; he must be doing something important if he was willing to brave the library.

They sat in silence and passed the early evening. Occasionally she would sneak a look around her slowly dwindling stack of books. If she caught his eye, she would just smile and go back to her book, the smile unknowingly lingering on her lips. Her nervous fingers kept threading through the curls of her hair until she finally just put it up in a ponytail.

Severus was not unaware of her, even if he didn't greet her initially. He was still haunted by the previous weekend and the quest with Sir Cadogan. The fair maiden, her hands bound, waiting to be ravaged by a dark and sinister man.

It was at that moment that he really allowed himself to realize Hermione was no longer his student. And by not being his student, she was no longer off limits. He let himself realize that he didn't want her to be.

He watched her little grin peek over from the books stacked beside her and after she went back to her studies, he noticed he was smiling too.

He quickly wiped it away.

Hermione realized as the evening progressed that this was her favorite day all week, and as the sun began to dip below the stained glass window, taking the evening heat with it, she wasn't ready for it to end.

"Professor?" she asked, automatically assuming his old title. "Um, Severus?" she corrected with a grin. It felt good to address him so informally. A third year from the table across from them stared at her with wide eyes. "Have you seen the suit of armor on the third floor by the portrait of Merlin? Well, Merlin was there last I looked. He does have a tendency to travel."

Severus looked up from his own book and closed it slowly. He wasn't entirely sure he was still absorbing the information anyhow. "I have. He has always seemed a bit peculiar."

"I agree," she said. "He doesn't really fit in with the rest of the décor and he certainly doesn't fit the era of the rest of the wing. Do you have an idea of his origin?"

They chatted as students slowly drifted out of the library. Soon, they were the only ones remaining as the torches were lit up. The whoosh of the flames igniting startled Hermione.

"Goodness, I didn't realized it was growing so late in the evening. I was really enjoying our conversation."

"Well, we are adults. It doesn't have to cease just because the library is closing," he told her before he really thought about it.

Her breath caught in her throat and she didn't immediately answer.

He seemed to realize his statement could be laced with more than one implication. "I have two chairs that are far superior to these, and I may be able to scrounge up a tea service."

Hermione's face relaxed into its familiar grin. "That sounds lovely. I don't have to be up for anything in the morning anyway."

"I do," he told her, "But a little extra edge will keep the students on their toes."

"Mustn't let them think you're getting soft now that you're not Headmaster."

They left the library and settled into the well worn chairs in front of his warm hearth, with a teapot and some finger foods on the small table between them.

She poured them each a cup, and took in the fact that she was sitting in his quarters. It wasn't the first time she had been here, but it was the first time she had been invited. Harry and Ron would be having a fit.

"I hated being Headmaster," he told her suddenly.

"Under the circumstances, it's easy to see why," she told him softly. "I know it probably doesn't mean much with everything that's happened, but Ginny and the others, they understand. Maybe not at first, but when we got back into contact with everyone, we explained what we knew. Word spread quickly. I hope they didn't make the year too hard for you."

He scoffed and pulled at the end of his shirt sleeve. "I was following the orders of bloody Voldemort and you're worried about me."

One of her shoulders shrugged. "It's not like you were still doing it for the love of the job."

"Truer words were never spoken."

She led the topic to safer waters after that. She soon realized that there may be no one in the castle that knew as much about the castle itself as he did, outside of Filch perhaps. He had spent long nights for many years with only the portraits for company. He had wandered all the halls and learned most of the secrets. The hours were filled with pleasant conversation, and she was pleased to think that their uneasy friendship was becoming more comfortable.

"I'm enjoying this," she told him in her typical Gryffindor manner. It didn't really occur to her to be subtle or keep it a secret.

"I've had worse nights," he banally responded.

She huffed. "Oh really? Well it's nice to know I'm not the worst company you've been in!"

"Not usually. But you have your moments."

"Well, I suppose that makes two of us."

"Cheeky."

She hid her grin behind her teacup. It was nice to be able to be open and honest with someone about the difficulties of their past, and have him be secure enough that he didn't explode in her face. He knew that his teaching persona wasn't exactly a candidate for Teacher of the Year. But behind the scenes, though he wasn't terribly outgoing, he was still just a man who occasionally enjoyed passing an evening in conversation with a pretty girl.

And she was a pretty girl who was enjoying an evening of conversation with an intelligent man.

When the clock struck one, her body announced it was time for her to go with an utterly unladylike yawn.

"That dull?" he asked.

"Mmm, terribly. I had a horrid time, Severus. Be sure not to invite me again," she told him with a bit of sleepy silliness.

He led her to the door and cracked it open for her. "If you found it that intolerable, I'll be sure to invite you as often as I can."

"I look forward to it," she told him as she left.

As she slipped past him to head down the hall, his face had a startled expression. Beneath the hairline of her ponytail, a tattooed trail of stars led below her collar.

_My, my, Miss Granger,_ he thought. _What other secrets do you keep?_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **About an hour later than planned, but you guys still love me, right? I'm at work. :/

**Chapter Nine**

Hermione tried to set the "Godmother thing" as she called it aside to work on the job she was actually employed to cover.

Most nights, she even steered clear of the library.

Tonight she sat in a slightly tattered, overstuffed chair with her pencil and paper. Normally pen was her method of choice but she found herself erasing and rewriting often while she solidified on paper the events that took place over her seven years in school. At first she had just been going to cover what transpired after Voldemort took over the school, but in order to do it justice, she needed to start at the beginning.

Seven years was a lot of ground to cover, and it was only a portion of Hogwarts' history as a whole. But she was determined to do her small part justice.

She chewed on the end of the pencil while debating if she should erase that line or leave it in. What was a critical detail? It felt as though she wasn't just writing history, she was writing a warning to future students. The future Hermiones who would look to this book as a source of guidance that could potentially derail a future Voldemort while he wass still Tom Riddle.

She frowned at the sound of a knock on her door. It was a difficult passage she was working on – the troll in her first year —and she really didn't want to be interrupted. Leaving her cozy blanket behind, she opened the door to find Severus there, taking up almost the whole doorframe.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

At her somewhat cold and startled greeting, he crossed his arms and looked down his nose. "Am I such an unwelcome guest?"

"Well, no. Just unexpected." She stepped back and motioned him through the door, but he didn't enter.

"I didn't come by for an idle chat. I saw this and thought you may have use for it."

He held a book out to her that she took reflexively. It was a book, after all. The fact that the owner was previously a shady Death Eater turncoat that she had a tenuous friendship with was unimportant.

She looked at the title. Hogwarts: A Beginning. It looked far older than anything she had come across so far. Hermione brought it to the table and set it down gently, beginning to leaf through the contents.

"You aren't even going to test it first?" he asked in a sarcastic tone from the doorway.

Hermione looked at him, seeming to remember he was there. "Do I need to?"

He ignored the little part of him that lit up when she implied that she trusted him. "You shouldn't trust anyone."

"Well, I do," she told him with a dismissive shrug.

When she looked up at the door again, he was gone.

With a frown, she continued her writings, determined not to go looking for him, no matter how much she wanted to. And that wanting was bothering her a bit.

As for Severus, he would never admit that the reason he left was his desire to stay. He knew that in no time at all, she would look up at him with questions about the origin of the book and what he knew of the school. Soon, he would be offered tea and a place on her couch, which he knew he would accept. Even though he was aware of the folly of his actions, he couldn't quite keep away from her completely. Something was calling him back to her, time and time again.

As Hermione returned to her work, she fondled the coins in the purse on the end table. She didn't pull them out, though she felt the tingle she was beginning to learn meant there would be work for her soon. But nothing urgent and that was just fine with her. As much as she loved the satisfaction of helping others, she really did have to start penning down her own history or she would be answering her own wish for a break from wish giving.

She was able to keep up her break from Severus for almost two days. They were both present at the evening meal, making Hermione cringe. The one time she really didn't want to see him, so of course, there he was.

After an afternoon spent outdoors with Neville, she wasn't exactly looking her best. She had taken Neville up on his offer to see the fringe areas of the grounds, looking for anything overlooked or added since the last edition of Hogwarts: A History. It was a good refresher for him as well as her, and she knew that anywhere Neville was should be guaranteed Severus-free. While she had been able to pull away from the school-girl image he held of her, Neville had thus far not been as fortunate.

Since she was still trying to digest the bit of information that suggested she might be seeing him as more romantic than his school image as well, a day in the autumn sunshine with Neville sounded perfect. While the stroll outdoors seemed to be exactly what she needed, she hadn't considered the fact she hadn't done much in the way of exercise in the last few months. She was tired and sore, still trying to catch her breath after the hike back. They also explored areas that left her in quite a state of dishevelment. She had been through the edges of the Forbidden Forest, mucking around by the lake, and trekking across the battle scarred land. By the end, she was ravenous.

Without a thought, she entered the hall, only to see Severus in his chair and looking at her expectantly. She joined him without a word, pretending she couldn't feel him giving her the once over, then her pulled a stick from her hair, giving her a disgusted frown.

Maybe she should have taken time to shower first. Or taken a bath. A hot bath. She was going to hurt later.

"Had a bit of adventure today, Hermione?"

She grimaced. "I spent the day with Neville."

"Ah," can his curt reply. "Certainly no more explanation is needed."

He seemed to be finished with his meal, as before she could reply, he stood to leave again. He kept leaving.

Her cheerful mood was gone. It was obvious she was showing more of the teenage girl she was than the mature young woman she was turning into. Well, sod it. She was having a cauldron cake before her meal. She had earned it. And afterwards, she would take the hot soak in the tub she should have done before. Maybe she would even bring a novel to read for pleasure instead of the history books she had been devoting herself to.

Finishing off a healthy-sized portion of shepherd's pie after her cauldron cake, she took a trip upstairs for her night things before heading to the bath. After giving some food to Crookshanks, she noticed a few extra items on her coffee table.

A few small bottles, no labels. Curious, she held them to the light and then cast a few basic diagnostic charms. They seemed benign.

Opening each to smell, there was a muscle relaxer, a pain reliever…and what Hermione could only assume was bubble bath. The bottles were still warm.

A soft smile crept across her face. Only one person could cook up three potions so soon after dinner. Was this where he had gone to?

There was no note or indication of their origin. Obviously, he wanted to remain anonymous. She wouldn't thank him outright, but she would make sure to find a way to return the favor.

Once down in the bath, she took her personal items out of her pockets before the elves took her clothes and was reminded of her little coin purse, setting it on the edge of the tub. While sipping a glass of juice, she looked at the coins again. The tingle she felt was much stronger now, and she identified which one was calling to her.

_I wish we could be open about our relationship – R.H._

Hermione frowned. The name wasn't spelled out but the date was recent. Perhaps it was a secret because the wisher was afraid to be known. She racked her brain for current R. H.'s in the castle. The only two coming to mind were Hooch…and Hagrid, she thought with revulsion. Hagrid wouldn't make sense anyhow as she was pretty sure he was still dating Madame Maxime.

_"So, Hooch?"_ she thought. _Who could she be seeing?_

Another teacher, maybe? Perhaps from another school? A girl, perhaps? The wizarding world was pretty quiet on same-sex couples, most not even knowing that Dumbledore had such leanings until Skeeter's book came out. A student? That would cause quite the scandal for sure. But who would know? It seemed she was trying to keep it a secret.

Her first thought was to ask those who knew everything in the castle. "Dobby?" she asked.

In popped the elf. "Miss is calling for Dobby? Is you needing something?" he asked with his large ears flapping.

"Dobby, is Madam Hooch seeing someone?"

The elf was quiet for a moment. That was certainly not what he had expected her to say. After a pause, he anxiously answered, "Dobby should not be saying!"

"Did anyone tell you not to?" she pressed.

The elf fidgeted. "Well, no. But Dobby doesn't want to make trouble for Madam!"

"I'm not going to get anyone in trouble if I can help it, Dobby. And I'm not in a position of power. You know you can trust me, just like Harry does."

Mentioning Harry was the trick and he visibly calmed. "Harry does trust Miss, and Dobby will too. Madam is seeing Harper, Miss, but is secret!" He snapped his fingers and disappeared before she could ask him any more questions.

Harper? The Slytherin seventh year? The female Slytherin seventh year? Hermione was astonished and sank a little lower in her warm water.

No wonder she hadn't said anything. Hooch was dating a student. Unbelievable.

She reached over the side of the tub, careful to keep the dripping to a minimum and grabbed the Hogwarts: A History she had brought with her just in case. Old habits died hard.

She searched through the book until her water was cold but didn't find much in the way of teacher relationships. Some of the professors were mentioned to be married, and there was a scandal with one headmaster and a goblin, but not much was stated otherwise.

She couldn't believe there had never been any dating going on at the school. Was it just not mentioned or was it all swept under the rug?

And then another rapid-fire thought hit her. How was she supposed to resolve this?

After quickly drying off, acknowledging that she felt much better thanks to Severus, she put on a robe and snuck up into the library, of course.

But hours of searching through books she was vastly familiar with gave her no answers. There simply wasn't anything on record forbidding a student and professor relationship. Perhaps it was something everyone just assumed would regulate itself.

Early the next morning, Hermione greeted the gargoyle and interrupted Minerva over her morning tea. "Good morning, Headmistress. I hate to bother you but I have a question I couldn't find the answer to in the library."

"Well," Minerva told her, "if you couldn't find it in a book, it's unlikely I can help you!"

Hermione smirked. It's true that if the answer had been there, she would have found it. "It's actually a questions about Hogwarts."

"For the book?"

"It's possible. I haven't been able to find any information on teacher/student relationships. Are they forbidden?"

Minerva chuckled. "No, not forbidden. Infrequent, but not forbidden. I was actually married briefly between the wars. To my former boss from the Ministry if you can imagine! We had the quaintest cottage in Hogsmeade. But then he passed suddenly, and I found myself back here. No, Hermione, teachers are allowed social lives. We just keep it subtle and away from the students."

"I had no idea," Hermione told her old teacher. She was truly flabbergasted. Minerva's husband was never spoken of. What else went on that she didn't know about or wasn't in the history books? "I know you said you were his former employee, but what about a student or former student?"

Minerva peered at Hermione as if trying to glean something through Legilimency. "Is there something you need to tell me, Hermione?"

Suddenly at that moment, she realized that it wasn't just Hooch and Harper she was asking for. The answers would quite possibly pertain to Severus and herself! Her breath hitched as the realization hit her. She had slowly been acknowledging the fact she that had a crush on her professor, but it was absurd to think it would be returned.

"No. I'm not inquiring for myself, I assure you," she said with a blush. Perhaps at a later date, but it would be presumptuous to say anything today. "What about gay or lesbian couples?"

"Och, there have been a fair few of them over the years as well, besides dear Albus, who never had a relationship while Headmaster. He was busy enough, I daresay. But there are witches and wizards who go the other way, and both ways, or neither way, and all have taught at Hogwarts at one time or another. I'm afraid that our opinion is often not far from the Muggle world, however, and those of a different persuasion received some backlash. It's not unheard of, though, and we don't forbid it. In fact, for a brief time Hogwarts was staffed exclusively by men. You don't want to know the stories that have been passed down from that time."

No, she certainly didn't. "And a student?" she asked, returning to the previous topic.

"There is nothing forbidding a student who is above legal age to date or marry. There are restrictions for those under age, of course, but in this world, we have a tendency to marry young. Shortly after graduation is common. Anything involving a teacher would have to be handled on a case-by-case basis, depending on whether the teacher was their Head of House or an instructor of a core class. Are you planning on covering this?"

"I certainly hope to if I can find enough information," Hermione said. "I'm sure things like this have happened before, but I can't find anything."

"Oh, it has. Whether or not it's tolerated is generally up to the popular opinion of the time," Minerva said, which gave Hermione another idea.

Shortly after, she excused herself so that they could both get breakfast. Instead of meeting in the Great Hall, however, Hermione broke her fast in her room while her pen scribbled furiously.

She wrote a letter to the wizarding family she knew best, the Weasleys, asking their opinion on the subject. What was the general consensus on May-December relationships? What about the feeling of Hogwarts staff? Would they trust if a student and teacher were serious about pursuing a relationship?

She made it clear these questions were for the book and not herself.

As anxious as she was to get a response, she knew sitting at her desk all day wouldn't make it arrive any faster. She had specifically asked Molly and Arthur to ask around to friends and coworkers. A response would take a few days at the earliest.

Hermione used that time to listen in or casually drop Harper's name into conversation. It turned out it was widely known that she was a lesbian, and it didn't seem like anyone was bothered. She was a Slytherin who played Keeper on the team, but off the field she was quiet and kept to herself. She had a few close friends of different houses. No one let drop that they knew about her and her professor.

Finally on the fourth day, an owl returned with a thick letter in its beak, earning not one but two slices of bacon.

Reading through it quickly, and then once again, taking her time, Hermione felt her anticipation and anxiety release for the first time in days.

It was no secret that Molly and Arthur had married young. So had, it seemed many in the community. And what with all that Hogwarts and its staff, especially people like Professor Snape, did to protect the students from the likes of Voldemort and his ilk, the trust of the public was deep. As long as the parents of the student and the Headmistress were aware and consenting, then they were largely accepting of the relationship.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

Of course she wasn't going to out the couple to the public. She didn't think that was exactly what Madam Hooch had in mind when she cast her wish. But Hermione could give her the information that she had found and let her know it was okay to be more open if they felt comfortable.

_Dear Madam Hooch_, Hermione wrote, using her specially made stationary.

_Recently, something has been tugging on my heart, and the universe told me it was time to do something about it. Now, in these times when the dark is so fresh a memory, we need all the light we can get, and we get that light with love. _

_But your love is still kept in the dark. _

_I want you to be aware of what I found on your behalf. _

_There is nothing against your relationship with Harper. Nothing forbids it in the statutes of the school. The Headmistress is willing to have an open mind. Even the public is willing to embrace you with open arms as long as the school and her family do as well. And from what I hear, her family is well aware of her proclivities. _

_There is nothing holding you in the shadows. Step out when you are ready. Be a beacon for others who may also be afraid. _

_Best wishes, _

_Your Fairy Godmother._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N **Better than than never right? Busy day in the Cybro household! Tomorrow is a toss up, will probably wait until Sunday to post. Just depends. Tomorrow will be my day with the hubs.

**Chapter Ten**

"Did you hear about Hooch?" was the whisper in the Great Hall the following Monday. It seemed that after the Quidditch game on Saturday when Slytherin gained a commanding victory over Ravenclaw that Harper tried to sneak a kiss with Madam Hooch that, naturally, everyone seemed to see firsthand and have details to share.

Hermione was careful to keep her details to herself, but she was pleased the couple was able to be open about their relationship. She just smiled and pretended to be surprised when it was mentioned. It was nice to still be in the closet herself, so to speak, but she wondered how long it would stay that way.

She had been reading up in her Fairy Godmother book from Minerva. It seemed that the issue of secrecy was a divided one. Some witches came out to their community, both with excellent and terrible results. Some witches were revered by their community and given a place of honor, but they were then inundated with requests from the people, not all of which could be granted. That's where the well came in. Its magical properties endued it with the ability to cull out only the genuine wishes and allowed it to help guide the Godmother toward knowing when the prime opportunity was to grant each one.

She still didn't know much about the fairy part of it all though. The original Godmothers were fairies, that much she knew. Apparently, the title just stuck. Oh well. She had been called worse things.

The Muggles got most of it right, though. There were fairies, and goblins, and witches, and dragons and trolls. And like any good fairytale, she had fought most of them and now apparently ascended to her next role.

She decided to search for some more coins, passing Severus on the way and just gracing him with a small smile as she went. Nothing had been spoken between them about the help he had given her, though he seemed to be less abrasive to her lately, almost as if she were now included in an inside joke between them.

With much progress made on her revisions for the book, she was ready to look back at the wishes. Her history had been penned up to her fourth year. That's when things would got more complicated with the return of Voldemort. She wanted to mull the next steps over a bit, and felt it was time to grant wishes.

As she let her fingers trail through the ripples of the cool water, a few coins rubbed against her fingertips and she scooped them up. She then laid them on the fountain's edge to dry while she read them. It was turning out to be great stress relief, knowing she was making people's dreams come true.

_Neville, Filch, Mr. Borgin, hmm, that's interesting, but he's dead…ah, here we go._

Dobby. That was one she knew she could do.

Dobby wished wizards knew why he loved being a house-elf. And Hermione wanted to know why too. She wasn't daft enough to attempt to free them again without their consent but it was an utterly thankless, dirty, demeaning job. Dobby wanted to not live in an abusive environment, but he still very much wanted to be a house-elf and was relishing his time at Hogwarts. She was determined to ask him straight away why he loved what he did.

Wanting this meeting to be private, and wanting to keep the fountain private as well if the elves didn't already know about it, Hermione decided to just to go down to the kitchen to talk to Dobby. She was feeling peckish anyway.

"Dobby?" she called, ignoring how the hum of activity slowed down when she entered. It always did, but she wasn't sure if it's because a person was coming through or if it was because i_she/i_ was coming through. She didn't think she wanted to know the answer.

"Yes, Miss?" Dobby asked, wiping his hands on a towel. "You had more questions for Dobby?"

"Yes, actually." She led them both to a small wooden table that looked as though it had been there since the Founders. "I've been curious about something since I came here, and I probably should have just asked you outright but I didn't. Why do you like being a house-elf?"

Nearby elves gasped and paused what they were doing before renewing their activity again with vigor, clearly pretending not to eavesdrop.

"Why does Dobby like being an elf? Because that's what Dobby _is_, Miss," he told her, trying to explain with his hands. "There is things wizards need that they don't know they need, and only elves can do. Poor Muggles have to do without," he said sadly. "They is not knowing how to made baby not fussy and how to get rid of nargles. They has to hire others to help run a house! Dobby is not explaining right."

"But, you get nothing in return," Hermione said, bewildered.

"What did you get for helping Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley? Things is not just money things. Things is respect and pride. We is doing a good job. We is helpers."

"Can you show me?"

Dobby's eye grew impossibly wide. "Miss wants to be a house-elf?"

"Maybe just for a few days? I can just help you clean my quarters," she told him.

The elves behind her let out a collective gasp again.

"Oh no, Miss! It would be a disgrace to clean one's own things! The elves who are in charge would be very disturbed if Miss helped them clean. It would show them no respect. Miss will help Dobby with his rooms if you wish."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Maybe she just wouldn't make any suggestions from now on, and just let him lead. Clearly she didn't know anything about elves. "When should I meet you?"

"We starts work about five chimes of the bell."

Five in the morning. Wonderful. She sighed. "Okay. I'll be here."

The following morning, Hermione rubbed her blurry eyes and sipped on some hot fresh coffee an elf handed her the moment she walked in. Apparently besides cleaning, they kept an eye on the habits of the people. They knew she wasn't a morning person.

Dobby came and inspected her appearance. Trainers, denims, a basic tee and her hair up. She was planning on getting her hands dirty, not really knowing anything about how elves actually cleaned. Did they have an all-encompassing cleaning spell or was everything done the Muggle way? She was prepared either way and had brought her wand but left her robes.

"Dobby will transport us from room to room. Much time will be saved that way. Dobby will know when each professor leaves for the day, and then we will clean. If a professor doesn't leave, then they summon us if we is needed. Laundry elves will get the clothes and kitchen elves get the dishes if we don't send them down. Miss is ready?"

"Sure, Dobby, but did you say profess-?"

Hermione never got to finish as Dobby grabbed her hand and they whirled into space, appearing in a large suite. The bed covers were made back up, the robes were folded neatly on the floor, and a vase was out of place.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked softly, as if afraid of disturbing the occupant.

"We is in the Headmistress' rooms. She always starts early and so we start here. Headmistress is very tidy, it won't take long."

Hermione asked what she could do and Dobby, pleased she was an eager helper, set her to Banishing the clothes and dusting the shelves with a charm. Her eyebrow rose as her foot hit a little jingling ball. She took the cat toys and placed them in a basket with the others. Dobby used his magic to summon any dirt from the carpet and curtains which seemed to vanish into thin air, then the carpet fluffed. Hermione emptied the trash and dusted her liquor collection the Muggle way. She didn't know much about alcohol, but the bottles seemed both vintage and expensive.

Soon, one of Dobby's ears perked. "Professor Hagrid is gone. Let's be quick, his morning walk of the ground is quick with his giant stride."

Hermione groaned. Cleaning Hagrid's hut was not her idea of a good morning. She needed more coffee for this. He had to be one huge half-giant bachelor. But resolutely, she stuck out her hand and allowed herself to be whisked away.

It was as bad as she had feared. Tempted as she was to pinch her nose or cast a Bubblehead charm, she simply began to Banish the dirty socks and moldy dishes, and opened the windows.

"You is a natural," Dobby told her in admiration.

"Thanks," she told him, not sure if she should be pleased or not. Her critical mind took in his haphazard placement of books, herbs, and the general chaos of the hut. "Do you guys ever straighten or organize?"

"We can," said Dobby. "But there is much to do in the castle. If we is asked, we do, but otherwise we keep to daily cleaning."

"Hmm."

She took out her wand and began to shuffle Hagrid's belongings.

"Take care to be quick, Miss. Professor will be back shortly and we take care not to be seen."

"Why is that?" she asked offhanded as she shelved his books by subject matter.

Dobby swept the rough hewn wood floors. "We is not wanting to be a bother. And we don't need the recognition. Elves isn't doing it for thanks. We is doing it because humans need us to, and we feel good knowing we is helping."

"So," Hermione asked him as she finished placing all of the potted herbs in the windowsill, "if you won't take money for your work, what would you take? What would make you happy?"

"Ah, there is what Miss should have asked years ago," said Dobby. He held his hand out, which she took and she knew at once they were in Professor Sprout's rooms. She wondered if she would have to clean Neville's as well. "Elves are loyal to their family. Seeing their family happy is the best thing. Like a mother watching her children grow. It's pride in the work well done. Being a good elf. But if a family wants to mistreat an elf, we would like to free ourselves. Not be bound until clothes."

Hermione gave him a weary glare as she attempted to clean dirt off i_everything/i_, while Dobby seemed to be able to do it in a snap.

"Most wouldn't. In fact, possibly none would. But just knowing we can if an elf is in a house like Dobby was. Mistreated! Elves is also liking sweets and pretty things. Soft things for our babies."

Hermione thought about that. "You must have a home somewhere too then."

He nodded and explained they took turns and cleaning for each other while the others did household chores. Elves were never really given anything for their own home though, she supposed, beyond maybe the basics. That was something she could look into.

Going through the rooms allotted to Sprout, Hermione was surprised, but maybe not as surprised as she thought she would be, to find a hookah, several small tins of dried herbs, and some rolling papers. She didn't say a word and simply cleaned and straightened them before again they moved on.

She found a similar tin in Neville's room, appropriately labeled "Longbottom Leaf." Shaking her head, she went to the next professor's rooms.

Looking around, she knew exactly where she was this time. "Professor Snape's quarters," she stated and Dobby nodded.

"We is having to be very careful in here. Not as much as when the Professor was on two sides, but there are making things that can break or cause harm to Missy."

"I'll be careful."

She took to what had become her chores in each room, emptying wastebaskets, taking care of laundry and the like. Her eyes lingered on little details she wasn't able to take in under Severus's watchful eye. The art on his walls, simple landscape tapestries. No personal photos that she could see. Mostly tidy with an empty mug of tea on a side table next to an open book face down.

A few journals were on the shelves, and one was on his desk. His research, from what she could tell; each book was labeled with dates. She left them in case he was in the middle of a project, and instead straightened his bedcovers. It seemed he was a restless sleeper, the sheets twisted and partially pulled off the bed. "How many elves do you work with Dobby?"

"Many elves help," he told her, "but only Dobby and Winky is allowed in these rooms." He clearly meant it as a badge of honor, that he had Severus's trust not to mess with anything he shouldn't. Winky was an odd choice, she thought. Perhaps he was giving her a second chance at belonging to a family. The thought made her sad.

Picking up a discarded robe, she went to hang it in his closet, but she had trouble pulling back the door. Something seemed to be caught. Afraid to just tug, she wiggled her fingers in, freed the piece of rather delicate-feeling fabric and slid the door open.

"Whoa. Dobby? Is this usually in here?"

She stepped back to give the elf room to see. Inside, taking up most of the available space, was a large, poofy gown. Red taffeta flowed down to meet a skirt of white in waves. A sweetheart neckline sat on top of a vee-shaped bodice, the bodice studded with silver and gold jewels and brocade. A deep red matching shawl was wrapped around the hanger.

"That is your dress," Dobby told her in a tone that didn't leave room for argument, but Hermione still tried.

"My dress? First, I don't own a dress like that, and second, why is it here?"

"That is a Godmother dress," Dobby told her. "And you is the Godmother. The dress appears where it think it should."

"But what if I never came in here?" she asked, flabbergasted.

Dobby shrugged. "Dress knew you would." He snapped his fingers and Hermione's mouth stood agape as the dress left its hanger and slowly dropped over her head, her clothes disappearing beneath it as it lowered. "Take a look."

Hermione suddenly felt extremely nervous, as though the dress were an animate object and would reject her as being not good enough. Who decided when she got a dress and why? Could it be revoked? From what she had read, the dress was one of the final steps in becoming officially recognized as a Godmother. It's what she would wear to public and formal functions if she decided to make her identity known.

Stepping slowly over to the mirror, she was surprised at how light the gown felt, listening to it swish on the floor. Finally summoning the courage to look, she took in her whole appearance.

She was beautiful. The only thing she needed was a necklace and a hairpiece and the look would be complete.

She wasn't able to look for long, however, when Dobby suddenly hissed, "Out! Quick!"

They heard the wards being released outside the professor's door. Thankfully he was meticulous and a little paranoid, the complex wards buying them a few moments. When Professor Snape walked in his room to grab the journal he had forgotten on his desk, his heart completely stopped beating as he paused in his tracks.

"'How we all enjoy letting loose with a little la-da-da-dum-dum'-Oh. Excuse me, sir. We thought you'd be gone a while," said Hermione stopped singing from her tip-toes on his sofa, dusting the gilded edges of a picture frame with her feather duster, wrapped in nothing but a Hogwarts monogrammed tea towel.

"Miss is working with elves," Dobby explained from his spot sweeping under the couch. "Miss is learning for her book."

"Yes! Exactly! My book! Not much research was done on the elves and you know that I-"

"Pardon me," he told her in a tight voice, "I just came for my book. I really must get to class."

"Oh, of course. We'll just finish up and be off."

Severus grabbed the book and quickly shut the door behind him, resting against the cool stone wall and waiting for his heart to catch up. My Gods, she was stunning. Her flushed cheeks, her riotous curls piled haphazardly on top of her head, and those legs…

He needed to get a grip before going to class. Thankfully he actually had almost quarter of a hour before he was due to report.

"DOBBY!" Hermione hissed as soon as he was gone. "What were you thinking?!" She quickly switched her towel to her original clothes.

"Dobby panicked!" he shot back.

Hermione sat down for a moment, rubbing her forehead with her hands. "Alright, damage is done. Let me take the dress to my room."

They made quick work of retrieving the dress from his closet and putting it on hers before carrying on with the rest of the rooms, which were thankfully mostly uneventful.

But she was never going to ask Trelawney about her sticky crystal balls.

A/N: Inspiration for the dress: **tinyurl dot com backslash mac35e6**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow but... *shrug* Here you are!

**Chapter Eleven**

Hermione spent the following few days recovering from her ordeal with Dobby. She now understood that it was more than work for house-elves. They viewed themselves as a part of their family, taking care of the silly humans who clearly couldn't manage on their own.

She had started to write a separate chapter just on the elves, making sure to include that there were things people could do to let them know they were appreciated in ways that wouldn't offend them—like she had so, so often. She made it a point to ask Minerva about offering some home items and sweets and such for the elves as well. Everyone knew how much Winky liked her Butterbeer.

Most of her time was taken up with her writing, but she did make sure she had a bit of a break each day to relax and enjoy the snow around the castle, though it was cold enough she generally enjoyed it from inside. The Christmas decorations were always something to look forward to, as well as the food and the fact that students would be gone for a bit, leaving the library to Hermione once again.

Currently Hermione was back in her room after a morning of writing and taking a bit of a walk. She was attempting to tackle a different task that her usual intellectual pursuits.

Stuffing her new dress into her closet.

It wasn't going well.

It had hung from a hanger on the door for a day or two but she was afraid someone would come in and see it. It was time for it to go into the closet.

After much trial and error, she gave up and Flooed Minerva, asking for her expertise.

"With what, my dear?"

"Just come and see," said Hermione, humiliated that she couldn't solve such a simple issue.

Minerva picked up the hem of her robes and gracefully came through the fireplace, immediately oohing and ahhing over the sight of the hard-to-miss dress. "Is this your Godmother dress?" she asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Where did you find it? Did it show up here?"

Hermione's lips pursed. "It was in Professor Snape's room."

"In Severus's! Oh my. Did he find it?" asked Minerva with a hand held to her heart in shock.

"No, I did. I was in there helping Dobby clean, learning about the house-elves."

"For your book?"

"Yes, for the book, and Dobby wished people would understand more about the elves. You know I've always been curious, so I followed him for a day and helped him tidy up the professors' rooms. Apparently, it's against their code to clean your own. So, I was in there, I saw the dress, Dobby informed me it was mine, and now I can't even get it into the closet."

"Did he see it?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. "It was a close call though. I was trying it on when we heard him coming back. Dobby quickly changed it into a _tea towel_ before the professor saw me."

Minerva tittered. "That must have been dreadful. And he didn't have a heart attack at the sight of you? I'm sure that's something Severus doesn't see often unless Sybil's been dipping into the sherry. Here, let me see what I can do with the dress."

She thought over what Hermione had told her while trying her magic on the outfit. She had found the dress in Severu's room? That seemed awfully significant. There was some lore about Godmothers and their dresses. Each was tailored specifically to the witch, and she didn't find the dress until she was considered an official Godmother. Well, she would be recognized as one the first time she wore it in public. Whether she announced it or not, the magic would. From then on, she would not be able to put down the mantle of Godmother until her death. Anyone she married would have to be approved of by the magic. It was an interesting and complex process.

And to find the dress in a man's quarters? Minerva pondered if the magic already telling her something.

Well if it was, she would let them figure it out on their own. No use making them run in opposite directions when it seemed they were becoming friends.

After several failed spells to, and the combined physical efforts of the two women which resulted in much huffing and puffing it was determined that the dress wouldn't be transfigured in any way. Neither would the closet. One would simply not fit into the other using magic nor might. The women finally just gave up and put it in the room next to Hermione's.

Hermione had actually broken into a sweat fighting with the fabric. After seeing Minerva off, she decided to go on a coin hunt, partially to run her irritated hands in the cool water. She only had a few coins left in her purse and none of them were calling to her. Her research was going well, and she was enjoying it, but not as much as she thought she would. Her mind kept wandering off. It wandered off wondering who had a wish to be fulfilled and what it would be; she was an awfully curious person after all. It wandered off whenever a person walked past, imagining what they could be wishing. It wandered off picturing Severus's face when he had walked in and found her in nothing but a towel.

It really liked wandering back there. She'd like to repeat that again sometime, perhaps, but under slightly different circumstances.

She was smiling as she sat on her knees and kneeled over the fountain's edge, running her hands over the top layer of coins. Who knew how many coins were in the fountain? She knew ones that were fulfilled disappeared, but what if the person passed away? Could a person only have one wish at a time, or in their life? Hermione was always burning with questions.

She picked up a few Sickles and let them drop one by one into the water and listened to the sound they made. Holding on to the last one, she turned it so the sun glinted off the metal, allowing her to catch the name.

_Crookshanks the Magnificent._

Oh, you have got to be kidding. She had to fulfill a wish for her i_cat/i_? She began to question if creatures could cast wishes but she had already had a wish from a house-elf, hadn't she? With a groan, she sat back to read.

_I wish to become further acquainted with the cute tabby._

_"Thanks for being vague, Crooks,_" she thought. That only narrowed it down to every cat he had ever come across. And she couldn't believe she was actually considering doing this, but it was the one that had caught her attention.

The irritated part of her was wondering if she should just start calling out "Here, Kitty, Kitty," but she knew she needed some kind of systematic plan. What was she supposed to do? Hold a Feline mixer party?

She went back into her room and waited for Crookshanks to come back for his nightly meal. When he finally decided to show himself, she made him a plate and sat beside him to chat.

"So. You think you've found yourself a lady friend."

He ignored her.

"You know you're fixed, right?"

Still no answer from the cat as he continued to eat.

"And Crookshanks the Magnificent? Really?"

This finally earned a response as he purred louder, seemingly to be pleased by her calling him by his full title.

"I found your wish," she finally stated abruptly. This caused him to stop purring immediately and look at her. "The one about finding the tabby."

"Merow?" Crookshanks answered with a flick of his tail. Hermione knew he didn't understand everything she said, but he seemed to comprehend most of it.

"My thoughts too. And apparently, someone in the cosmos thinks it would be funny if I had to fulfill your wish. Of course, it's not like you can give me a description, but you were able to make a wish appear so you must really like her. Is it a her?"

He hissed at her.

"I'll take that as a yes then. Let me compile a list of known pets in the castle and around town, okay?"

She knew Flitwick had a cat. And Mrs Norris, of course. She was pretty sure Minerva had one as well, and there were always a few around the greenhouse and Hagrid's hut. Who knew if he went all the way to Hogsmead. Blasted feline.

Gathering up Crookshanks, she headed out to the greenhouses first since that was where there was a higher concentration of cats. Once outside, she clipped his leash. She had found out early that he would walk with her when he wanted to, being of a higher intelligence than most cats. He liked to be with her, and she rewarded him afterward with a treat or play time. It was cold, being December, but the day lacked the biting cold that could come across the Highlands. A thick jacket was enough for her needs as she followed the worn path through the snow.

As she arrived, it was easy to see the cat tracks leading in and away from each greenhouse. The cats liked to hide underneath the tables of plants and Sprout allowed it since they kept the mice, who were also tried to sneak in, away from the plants and seeds.

Hermione called to the cats in the greenhouse and shook a few of Crookshanks's favorite treats on the ground. Soon, the word spread and the swish of happy tales could be seen emerging from dark corners and coming in from the other green houses. When they appeared to be all gathered, she unclipped her half-Kneazle and let him socialize and play. None of them appeared to be the cat in question, but he still enjoyed all of his fellow feline friends gathered together. Hermione cast _lumos_ and allowed them to chase the beam of her wand, careful not to disturb the plants.

Soon after, it was time for them to return to the castle and settle in for the evening. It was getting late and quite dark as they walked the path up to the main doors. She helped gather a few straggling students, nodding at Severus as he came towards her, then smiling as he passed. He looked cute all bundled in wool on his way to walk the perimeter. Not that she was going to tell him that. Ever.

Severus wore a skeptical look as he watched Hermione lead her cat up to the castle but the cat seemed fairly compliant. He greeted her back as she passed him before sticking his hands deep in his pockets with a smile. He was always a little cold, having been anemic most of his life, like were most of the kids in his neighborhood. But Hermione looked warm with a rosy glow in her cheeks and fur trimmed jacket, and somehow, that made him feel warmer as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone student straggler, hurrying in before curfew and giving him a strange and wary look after seeing the expression on the professor's face. A smile from Professor Snape was possibly one of the most terrifying things he had seen.

"Cauldwell!" Snape snapped. "Quit gaping and get inside!"

The student picked up the pace, feeling a bit better.

Hermione didn't have much luck over the next few days. Crooks and Flitwick's cat, Willow, had quite a friendship, but she didn't seem to be the tabby he had in mind. Hagrid's cat, it turned out, was a boy. He hissed at Crookshanks without coming near, thinking that he was a rival for his territory. Crooks just gave him a defiant flip of the tail and pranced off in the snow towards the Billywigs Hagrid kept in a jar in the window.

She was sure Minerva had a cat, but she never could find her. Mrs Norris seemed to be everywhere they were when they went walking through the castle. Hermione didn't have to put him on a leash inside; he would just trot beside her like a spaniel. Mrs Norris liked to come rub up against Crooks, or she would pounce at them from around the corner. When they saw her with Mr. Filch, she would always walk a few steps ahead of him, as though distancing herself.

Hermione wasn't very good with Kneazles, but she thought Mrs Norris might be carrying a torch for her Crooks. It didn't seem to be returned however, which was a shame. There could only be so many cats of their caliber in the castle, but it seemed he had his eye on a different one.

The next day, they just walked around aimlessly, hoping to find the right one. They traipsed around to the kitchens, and the trophy hall, and down into the dungeons. Hermione was just waiting for this so-called good luck to kick in. Things were supposed to just fall into place for her, right? Was she a Godmother, or wasn't she?

"Oh! Excuse me," Hermione said as she almost collided with the master of the dungeons himself.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked puzzled, then looked down. "And with your cat again."

"Mrrow," Crooks told him, put out. Why shouldn't he be with his mistress?

"He doesn't mean anything by it," Hermione told her cat, giving him a pet. To Severus, she answered, "Well, you know he is half-Kneazle and quite intelligent."

Crooks purred louder again.

"Of course only you would have to have an above-average familiar," he murmured which she chose to ignore.

"It seems he has a friend, a lady friend, that he made an acquaintance with and now he can't find her. We've been all over the castle and around the grounds outdoors but can't find her, so we're taking a stroll to see if she can be found."

"So, let me see if I understand you correctly. You are trying to find a piece of tail…for your cat?"

"It isn't like that!" she huffed. "Crookshanks has been—"

"MEROW!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Crooks, it's true. It's better for you in the long run and we won't add to the population! Crooks has been fixed, so it's not like that."

"Sorry, mate," he said to the cat apologetically. "But he is half-Kneazle. Maybe it isn't for repro—Merlin's titties, Hermione. I am not going to stand in the hallway and discuss your cat's sex life." Severus motioned for them to follow him, chagrined.

After leading them to his room around the corner, Hermione filled him in on what they had found so far and what she thought they were looking for.

"I think I may know the cat you are referring to. She prowls through this way on occasion, but it's typically rather late. Would you be willing to meet here this evening, say, one hour to midnight?"

Hermione agreed to his strange request. This must be her luck making itself known.

Plus, she got to spend a little more time with Severus.

That evening, she came down to his room wearing a comfy set of pajamas. It was rather late, after all, and it was nothing improper. Severus said nothing as he admitted her into his rooms.

"I'll go see if I can find her. Just make yourselves comfortable. I should be back shortly."

He left the room, and Hermione sighed to herself. She wished she had some excuse to see him more often, but she really didn't. Setting her cat down, she went into Severus's room, curling up on the bed to wait. Hermione took the book off the table beside what was clearly his favorite armchair, turning it over to see if it was something she would care to read.

As she did so, a photograph that was his bookmark fell out of the pages. Hermione turned it over to find a photograph of a young woman sitting by the Black Lake. Her back was to the photographer as the woman sat reading very intently, her long chestnut hair blowing a bit in the subtle breeze.

She was quite pretty, Hermione thought. This almost looked like one of the photos Colin took while he was obsessed with Harry. But that would be silly because then the photo would be of her…

She had no time to get a closer look at the woman, who was about to turn her head as Severus came back through the door with a cat who was not pleased. The gray tabby was clawing at his jacket and long, stringy hair in her valiant attempt at freedom.

Hermione shoved the photo back into the book as Crookshanks came out of the bedroom at full gallop.

"Mmmerowerow?" asked Crooks as Severus let the other feline go. She bristled a bit as he sniffed around her, then bolted out of the room with the orange Kneazle on her heels.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione called, but it was pointless. He wasn't going to return until he was ready. She asked Severus, "How did you know which cat it was?"

"Lucky guess," he told her vaguely. "That one comes out late at night. It would make sense that you haven't seen her."

"Oh, that must be the Headmistress's cat!" Hermione said. "I figured she had one but I haven't seen her before. She's very pretty. Almost looks like Minerva's Animagus form. Well, I hope they can make friends."

"Me too," said Severus. "Me too."

They chatted for a while until another of Hermione's huge yawns had her begging her pardons. Severus saw her to the door, his hand resting briefly at the small of her back as he admired the close cut of her Muggle pajamas.

Later that evening, Severus stood in his own pajamas, ready for bed. As part of his evening ritual, he pressed a small stone in the wall near his armoire. The section pulled back, revealing a small alcove with a large standing mirror inside. He stood in front of the mirror, his face reflecting the confusion he saw. Before the fall of Voldemort, he always saw the same thing. Long, red hair, and smiling, green eyes.

But after, it was different. That image was gone, and the fog in the mirror just swirled and swirled, never coalescing into a recognizable form.

Bits and pieces were starting to glimmer into focus, but nothing made sense so far. Every evening, he stood in the same spot, watching for anything new. Tonight, perhaps a glint of gold? Maybe it was tawny. Maybe it was nothing.

"SEVERUS!" came a loud shriek from his now blasting fireplace. "I HAVE ALMOST BEEN ASSAULTED BY AN OVEREAGER TOMCAT, AND YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!"

He gave a throaty laugh as the panel closed shut. "Coming, Minerva."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Just got home from a swim! There should be a chapter every day until the end (There are five chapters after this one), though Tuesday's will be later in the day as I have a meeting. Thanks, ladies!

**Chapter Twelve**

_Thunk_.

Hermione's forehead fell against the solid oak desk, her cinnamon-coloured curls fanning out around her in a cloud.

"There is no way I can do this," she mumbled. "How am I supposed to fulfill a wish for someone who is _dead_?"

Apparently, not all wishes disappeared with someone's passing as she had originally expected. She consulted the book from Minerva, and, sure enough, if the wish _could_ still be accomplished or _needed_ to still be accomplished, it remained.

And she had evidence of that.

Held in the palm of her small hand was a coin from Sirius Black. A perfect golden circle.

She glared at it as though it had personally offended her. No ideas were coming to her on how to accomplish this wish, but she figured Harry would be involved.

Harry and Ron were basically taking the year off, which was well deserved, even if it wasn't something of which she was capable. Hermione needed to be doing something.

And it seemed she would be spending the last few weeks in January apologizing on behalf of Sirius.

A wisp of her hair flew up in the air as she huffed. Being a Godmother was not all it was cracked up to be.

She had tried to set this wish aside. She had found it on her first visit to the fountain and she had thought that perhaps it was a mistake and hadn't left yet. Minerva had mentioned it had been some the last Godmother and the fountain stayed dormant in-between them so perhaps it just needed some time to catch up to what was current.

So she put the coin aside once again and focused on some more immediate wishes.

There were times when she would get near where she had put the coins saved for a later date and feel the tingle drawing her closer. She mentally wished the prickling awareness would go away, but there it remained. Finally this morning she was reaching over her bag for a book and it had leapt up, attaching itself to her hand. She could not put the wish off any longer.

But she didn't even know who to apologize to! The coin simply read, _"I wish I could apologize.__"_ Now, Hermione was no expert on the Marauders, but she had a pretty good idea that there were a lot of people Sirius had upset in his life.

Only one of them, of course, being Severus. But she was fairly certain that was not the hatchet Sirius wished to be buried.

Was it an ex-girlfriend or an old teacher? A family member, perhaps, or one of the Order? Maybe Harry?

She had absolutely no idea, but Harry was the closest he'd had to family, and he had access to Sirius's belongings. Maybe there would be a clue.

Harry had no problem letting Hermione come over. She told him she was doing research on the Marauder era to bring Hogwarts: A History more up to date, and he didn't question her. The Black family as a whole had a huge role to play in the newest chapters of the book, so spending time at Grimmauld place to learn more about the Blacks being here wasn't really off the mark. It could be very easily explained.

"Harry, you don't by chance still have Sirius's things, do you?" Hermione casually asked.

Harry looked a bit chagrined and nodded. "I didn't really know what to do with them. Some things I got rid of, but I couldn't part with the more personal stuff. I never really knew anything about him, and he was one of the last people that had a connection to my dad."

"You still have Remus," Hermione reminded him. "Or even Severus."

"Severus?" Harry grimaced.

"We are colleagues of a sort," she told him shortly as he led her up the stairs to Sirius' old room.

"Weird. And I'm sure he'd have loads to say about my parents but probably not anything I'd want to hear."

"But that doesn't make it less true, Harry," Hermione admonished. She could understand only wanting to learn about the pleasant aspects of your parents, but Harry had put them on a pretty high pedestal and could become rather arrogant about the people he believed them to be. He would be better off learning who they actually were, the good and the bad, from as many sources as he could if he wanted to get a real picture of where he came from.

Harry just shrugged and opened the ancient wooded door, which creaked from disuse as they entered. A thin layer of dust covered everything in the room. It was clear Harry hadn't been in there much since Sirius passed, and Kreacher ignored the room completely. It wasn't for one of the members of the Noble House of Black, after all. Just Sirius.

Hermione cast a light cleaning charm, and she watched with a slight frown as the stream of dust flew out the nearest window. After it was tidy, she went about searching the room for anything that might help her. There were still clothes in the drawers, and she invited Harry into the room to see if there was anything he wanted to keep. He was quite excited to find some of Sirius's vintage Quidditch tees. Under the bed was miscellaneous rubbish, and his closet held most of the objects a man's closet would. Formal robes, old sneakers, odds and ends from his childhood days, but nothing that would aid her. It wasn't until she opened the nightstand drawer that she found anything unusual.

But the brown leather-bound journals looked very promising.

"I'm just going to take these into the library and see if there is anything I can use, okay?"

"Sounds great, Hermione. Lunch later?"

"Perfect," she told him and gathered up the three or four books to read out of his sight.

She lit a few torches and set the books down on a large table to begin reading. She really hoped these were what she was looking for, since she had no idea where to go next.

_"Today I'm leaving on the train for Hogwarts...__"_

Hermione flipped a few more pages.  
_  
"James and our new friend, Remus, are heading out to Quidditch tryouts...__"_

She flipped a few more.

_"__...and I couldn't help myself. The way he looked said he needed to be taught a lesson or two.__"_

" _Here we go,__"_ she thought. With a notebook and pen, she started to make notes.

It seemed only a few moments later when Harry, wearing an old shirt of Sirius's, came in to retrieve Hermione from her books. Her head was down, hair tumbling everywhere, as she furiously scribbled on her paper while one of the books from Sirius's room laid open beside her. Harry decided he would bring her a plate instead of bringing her to the table. It was never smart to interrupt her when she was like this.

There were a ton of people, Hermione decided as she took a bite of her sandwich, that Sirius had wronged in his life. And apparently they were all chronicled in his journals.

Sirius journaled, who knew? It seemed that more nights than not, he wrote down a daily log of his adventures (and misadventures) with his friends, starting from the night before leaving on the Hogwarts Express when his mother gave him a new journal as a gift. She had flipped through to the end and saw there was a gap missing when he had been in prison, but it covered when James and Lily were killed and picked up again sporadically after his escape.

There were several that he had wronged, each with a spot on her list and a description of the misdeed, but there was no way to tell which one was the one he specifically wanted to apologize to. She only listed the ones where he had expressed remorse after the action, so she knew it was something about which he had felt guilty. It couldn't be Harry's parents, she thought, crossing them off the list. They were deceased as well.

There were a few others that were crossed off for the same reason but it still left a list of a dozen names.

The only thing she could think to do was to apologize to all of them in his name.

A task she was not looking forward to, she thought as she finished the sandwich and reflected over the list of names. Not looking forward to at all.

Harry gave her leave to bring the books with her back to Hogwarts. She left Grimmauld Place with anticipation and trepidation of her next undertaking. There really were some passages she wanted to transcribe into the notes for the book update. The books were like having an eye-witness interview of some of the events that occurred which had no living survivors.

As she settled in her quarters to start writing a few owls pertaining to Sirius' wish, Hermione reflected that being a Fairy Godmother could certainly take up a good chunk of her time! She took our her special stationary and picked up a Dicto-Quill.

The first few letters were fairly simple. The first to a classmate that Sirius had cursed, Bertram Aubrey. She wrote a short note asking for his forgiveness on behalf of Sirius Black. One or two to a few other random classmates.

A long letter followed to Severus.

Yes, Severus.

She gulped as she put pen to paper, frightened of the reception the letter would receive, but knowing it had to be written.

He had been mentioned several times in Sirius's journals, mostly degrading him or relating tales of their fights. Stories of how the three or four of them would make plans to corner Severus when he would be alone, or complaints about how Severus had been able to get a curse or two off on them for a change.

But there were a few passages, sentences really, that hinted Sirius was beginning to realize the treatment of their classmate was bullying and cruel. That perhaps they were in the wrong and weren't being fair.

The later passages especially reflected on who Sirius was as an adult, and that perhaps he would have been better to try to make friends with Severus instead of alienating him. Severus would have been a powerful ally, in all that he was already a powerful ally that Sirius hadn't even known they'd had until after Azkaban.

There were a lot of transgressions between the two of them. A lot of misunderstandings, and missed opportunities. They were oil and water and she couldn't think of anyone that set Severus off like Sirius did. Not that she knew either real well. She made sure the letter was clear and thorough, signed on behalf of Sirius Black.

When she was finished, she closed the journal with a loud and final thump.

Hermione was ready to leave the room when an owl hastily returned with an indignant, "Hoot!"

"What's wrong?" she asked as the owl flew to a stop on her desk and held out one leg.

It held a charred parchment still smoking in its claw. It didn't take a know-it-all to figure out where that had come from.

With a moue, she sat back at the table and drafted another copy.

"Bring this to Professor Snape." At the owl's distressed hoots, she added, "But don't wait for an answer. I won't even tie it. Just drop it off and leave, okay?"

The owl reluctantly held out his claw for the letter and beat a hasty retreat. Hermione just shook her head and left. Of course he wouldn't accept it at first. She would just have to be persistent. And she was very persistent.

Hiding in the library, she was surprised to see Remus Lupin sitting at a table.

Sitting beside him, she inquired after his health and what he was doing in the castle.

"I'm doing well, thank you. Still no transformations," he said with a smile. "Dora and I are even talking about expanding our family," he added nervously.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No, I'm actually looking to brush up on a few skills. I'm hoping to petition Minerva to get my job back next year. I hear Mr. Weasley was only able to take one year off from his job in Romania."

"That would be wonderful, Remus!" Hermione told him, as she saw a familiar face storming through the library.

"Severus," Hermione said by way of greeting.

"Hermione," he responded. "Lupin."

"Hello, Severus."

"How do you rank first-name basis?" Remus asked as Severus walked on. "I've been trying to get him to call me by my name for years."

Hermione shrugged. "We shared a personal moment."

Remus raised a surprised eyebrow as she realized how that sounded. "Not that kind of personal! I needed to brew a...potion."

"A monthly one? Not Wolfsbane I hope?" he asked her, gently teasing.

"Ha," she told him, her laughter dry. "So anyway, he just told me to drop the title and go brew, and that was that."

"He must care for you deeply," Remus told her, his face solemn. "Severus doesn't open up easily, or often. You must be something special."

Hermione blushed under the praise of her friend and former teacher, and slightly at the implication of a relationship with Severus. "I'm sure he's just trying to turn over a new leaf, now that he doesn't have to put up pretenses. And I just make a nuisance of myself."

"I'm sure he needs a friend," Remus said as an owl burst through the library. It landed in front of Hermione with a screech, showed her his singed tail feather, before turning his back to her and flying away. A few minutes later, a different owl dropped off a short length of parchment and flew off.

"My, aren't you popular?" Remus asked her.

Before she could answer, Severus stomped over to her table. "Was that my owl?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry? I think this is a letter from Harry," Hermione said quickly. "He had to replace Hedwig after, well, you know."

His response was short. "So you didn't send me a letter this morning?"

"Wouldn't you know if I did?" she asked evasively as Remus watched them both.

Severus gave a curt nod. "You are correct. This would not be a trick you would pull. Your companions perhaps, but it's beneath you. Very well then. Good day," he bid them both, while only looking at Hermione, and briskly left the library.

Remus just looked at Hermione after Severus left again.

"What?" she asked.

"Severus has a friend."

"I'll see you later," she told him, quickly rising. "Give Tonks a hug for me."

She would clearly have to be more careful. But first, more letters.

Her coin had not disappeared. She let it rest a few days. Maybe it wasn't Severus that Sirius wanted to apologize to, and when one of the other recipients read and forgave him, the coin would disappear.

But it was still on her shelf.

She redrafted the letter to Severus, and this time she included a preface. It explained that she was a friend of the Blacks who had come across some journals of Sirius's and that it was time to reconsider their relationship. It included some of the lines from the journals themselves, hoping that Sirius's own words would be enough to persuade him to at least read the letter.

No owl was willing to ferry her letter, so she asked Dobby to deliver it for her. She forbid him to tell Severus where it had come from and suggested that he try and deliver it when Severus was gone.

The letter was returned to sender, unopened.

Sending three letters didn't help either.

Nor did sending ten.

It was beginning to remind her of the story Harry told her about trying to receive his Hogwarts letter.

Finally, she sent one single letter. A note was attached to the top, unsealed, that said he would be bombarded in the Great Hall if he didn't read the letter.

She heard nothing for the next few days. It wasn't until they met in the Great Hall that she found out if he had even received it.

"Would you be free this evening? I have something I wish to discuss with you," he told her.

"Of course," she answered immediately, ignoring the little jump in her heart and wasting no time in meeting him as soon as it was socially accepted "evening."

"What did you need?" she asked, taking what was becoming her spot as she watched him pace the floor, still in his black teaching robes.

Hermione loved those robes.

Severus turned on his heel to face her —sitting in his room, feet tucked beneath her, waiting to hear his trouble. A bit of the tension in his chest released, just knowing there was someone ready to listen to his side without a chip on their shoulder, judging him against his past or their agenda.

"Read this," he told her, handing her the letter she had sent a few days past.

Terrified that he had figured out it was her, she didn't respond and just skimmed over the letter. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think," he told her, finally taking the seat next to hers. "I know you don't know much of the past, between Black and Potter and me. There was never any remorse. Between any of us. Never an apology. Only hatred. And now this."

"It seems pretty sincere," she offered. "And they obviously went through a lot of trouble to get this to you."

"That is true. I thought I was going to have to start refusing all correspondence. I'm not sure what made me even open it. I knew it was him." His head hung low as he slowly spoke. "I thought this was done. I thought they were gone from my life forever with the death of Pettigrew."

"Remus is still here."

"The wolf," he snorted. "He has never been an aggressor."

"Maybe if you don't consider him a part of that group now, you could stop treating him like it," Hermione told him, keeping her tone gentle and not accusing.

He finally looked to her but didn't respond.

"I think he has been trying to ask your forgiveness for some time, but he doesn't really know how. You aren't really rolling out the welcome mat," she said with a smile, hoping he wouldn't be offended by her frankness.

"I've never really had the occasion to," he told her, his voice gruff. "And never to one of them."

"Well, maybe now you do. Sirius seemed to be realizing that he wasn't being fair, and someone seems to think it's pretty important that you know and perhaps mull it over a bit. Maybe that will open the door to a friendship you didn't think was possible."

"Maybe it will," he told her.

In the days that followed, the coin didn't disappear, but its edges would waver, flickering in and out of visibility.

After a lifetime of hatred, she'd take it.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Ch 13, in which the heat gets turned up...

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hermione's next wish was a no-brainer. Well, sort of.

_I wish to dance in the arms of a beautiful woman_, the coin read. Signed, Argus Filch. Dated the night of the Yule Ball in Hermione's fourth year.

She may not have ever been the belle of the ball. She wasn't the most glamorous, the most fashionable, or the most ladylike, but Hermione knew her looks were at least acceptable to most men, quite attractive to a select few, and she was preparing herself for a night of dancing with one Mr. Filch.

If things went according to plan, he would dance the night away while she watched on from the floor, but that was yet to be determined.

The venue was already prepared for her, so when this coin decided to give her a little shiver, it was easy to see why.

This year, there was to be a Valentine's Ball.

No dance had been held since the Yule Ball four years past, and it was no wonder why. First Umbridge, then the focus on Voldemort and attacks at the school, then Dumbledore's death and Death Eaters taking over the castle. The simple frivolity of a dance would help return the castle to its normal atmosphere full of enchantment. It would bring the students, and the staff, back to a time when there were no worries greater than exams and what to wear to a dance.

Preparations were already underway in the castle for the party that would be in a few days' time. She had no doubt all of the castle would be in attendance, whether by will or by force. The students mostly by will, the staff mostly by force. Especially a select few, like Severus.

Severus would be at the ball. It was like her own little fairytale nightmare. She really hoped her Godmother magic behaved itself. There were accounts in her book of strange things happening in these kinds of situations, and she was focused on the fact that if anything were to happen, between her and _anyone_, she wanted it to be natural and unforced.

But that didn't make it any easier to find a gown. Or a hairstyle. Or the right shoes.

Hermione wanted to find something that would appeal to both Mr. Filch and Severus, but truthfully she didn't know the tastes of either. It was common knowledge, of course, that Severus had fancied Harry's mum in the past, but Hermione had no idea what about her had appealed to him, nor did she just assume that the tastes of a teen were the same as the tastes of a man.

Just thinking that gave her a little shudder, for he was, most definitely, a man.

Only having attending the one dance in her life, and not being involved in pure-blood society, she was at a loss as to how best to proceed. She endeavoured to ask Minerva, who plainly responded, "A dress? Why, you have a perfect dress exactly tailored to you right at your disposal!"

Her Godmother dress! There was no way she was going out in that dress.

"Doesn't that state publicly that I'm a Godmother?" she asked. "I don't think I'm up for that yet. I haven't decided whether to be forthcoming about my new...position."

"It's only a statement for those who know. Which is who? Filius and myself?"

"And Dobby," Hermione added in a forlorn tone.

"And a house-elf! I think you'll be just fine."

"I'll consider it," Hermione offered.

Minerva agreed that she should. "It really will be most becoming, and I have a feeling all will fall into place once you put it on."

Which was kind of what Hermione was afraid of. Activating her magic.

Catalogues from Madam Malkin's and a trip to Hogsmeade left her with no more options than she had started with. There were several dresses she found, but they were more geared towards the eager fourth and fifth-year students than the young woman Hermione had become. Nothing was really flattering for the position—and the curves—she had developed.

Which found her, on the night of the ball, in her room, fingering the silk and threads of her voluptuous gown. Coming out as a Godmother was a major, life-altering decision. But then, so was being a Godmother.

She knew she could keep it a secret. Hermione was good at those. The question was whether she would be able to keep a secret something that so many could possibly benefit from. When she was announced to the world as a Godmother, she would have different guidelines and magical abilities. A reclusive Godmother was able to answer the wishes of those from the fountain. On rare occasions, she could intervene directly on behalf of someone in need, generally a young female.

But if she was known, she would be able to affect those in need more directly, without waiting for the magic of the fountain to direct her. She would be her own box, so to speak. There were a list of disadvantages she was already aware of—the beggars, the unbelievers, the inability to satisfy all who sought her aid.

But her assistance to a world, her world, currently so torn in two could be boundless.

She put on the dress.

Opening the closet for the shawl, she found elbow-length white satin gloves and open-toed white heels inside resting on the floor.

"Okay, okay. I get it," she mumbled.

Putting on a simple choker of matching red ribbon and loosely putting up the sides of her hair, she stepped in front of the mirror. She looked the part of both a Godmother and the Valentine's Day ball with her dress of white, red, and gold.

So Gryffindor.

Deciding it couldn't be helped now, she picked up the hem of her skirt and made her way to the Great Hall.

Her entrance was bound to cause a commotion. First, she was the heroine Hermione Granger. No matter that she was the same bookworm who had been in the castle almost every day since the battle, spending her days in the library. On occasions like this, people still looked to them as symbols. The curious bystanders would want to know if she had brought a date, what she wore, and who she danced with. Second, she was a sort of persona non grata. A Muggle-born witch, neither student nor professor. Third, well, her dress was bloody huge, a fact she realized as she figured out how to manoeuvre her skirt around the door.

Of course she spotted Severus almost immediately and was pleased that the little rouge she had dabbed on would cover her slight blush.

He was standing by the wall, quietly surveying the scene. His hair, a little longer than usual, was tucked behind his ears as he kept his hands clasped behind his back.

Hermione thought he looked dashing.

After sending him a nod, she parted the crowd that somehow enveloped her. Minerva beamed when she saw her and couldn't help but come over and fuss over the dress. Hermione was afraid Flitwick was going to have a fit, going on as he did about her shoes and her gown. Both of them realized the importance of her coming out publicly as a Godmother and how her magic would now expand. Occasionally she could already feel a little tingle in her palms that she knew was the fairy magic.

Once the ball was full of happy, dancing students and the orchestra was reaching its stride, she found her target.

"Mr. Filch?" she politely asked the man who was once again rocking a grumpy Mrs. Norris on the outskirts of the crowd.

"What do you want?" he asked sharply, assuming he would be called away to his duties.

Hermione held out one pristinely gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

His eyes narrowed as he watched her in suspicion. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing, sir," she reassured him. "But I came tonight without an escort and would like to take a turn. It seems you are without one as well. Would Mrs. Norris mind?"

Filch looked down at his cat, who, sensing his hesitation, took the opportunity to leap from his arms and disappear into the hallway. "It seems she has a previous obligation."

Once again the students parted in wonder as Hermione brought him to the centre of the room. She gave Flitwick a discreet nod, who he cued the orchestra to play a lilting ballad with a vintage air. Something from Filch's youth when he had first spent his time at Hogwarts.

Filch grasped Hermione in a traditional and respectful pose, not too close, as he held her waist and her hand, leading her across the room with more grace than she had anticipated. She was careful to keep her countenance serene, showing no fear or embarrassment. It would all be for naught if he decided that she was trying to make a fool out of him.

A space cleared in the middle of the room as they danced, most stopping just to watch the odd pair. As Hermione circled the room, spin after lazy spin, she noticed a pair of eyes watching them with more than the shock registered on the faces of the rest of the audience. The eyes followed them as they moved about the room, swaying and swirling in time to the music, and if Hermione was correct, they seemed to be tinted green with jealousy.

She was more than a little surprised, but upon reflection, she really shouldn't have been. The signs were there. With a smile, she glided them over to that side of the room as the song crested to an end.

"Excuse me, would you like to dance? I need a bit of air and I'd hate to leave my partner on his own."

"I...I..." stumbled Madam Pince, her cheeks blushing rosy pink.

"Don't worry, Granger," Mr. Filch told her, taking Madam Pince's hand from Hermione's, "I'll be in good hands with Irma."

The old librarian smiled as her nerves seemed to dissipate under the caretaker's touch. Never looking away from each other, the two stepped out to continue the dance.

Hermione did as she said she would, stepping out for a bit of air after being in the spotlight. She never noticed the other set of eyes that watched from the opposite corner.

What must it be like, he wondered, to act so freely? To openly display your designs with the one you care most about? He envied her easy smile and fearless nature. Severus couldn't imagine anyone looking so content dancing with him as Hermione had with Filch, never mind how smitten Irma clearly was.

He could never bring himself to ask her for a dance. It wasn't his way. But surely bringing a drink to one who looked parched wasn't overt. Even if he was Severus Snape. He was allowed to turn over a new leaf.

He waffled for a moment, then grabbed the cup and headed to the door as Filch and Pince still danced arm in arm.

"Oh, hello, Severus," Hermione told him, standing from where she was leaning over the garden gate. "No one is in the rose bushes, I checked," she added with a smile.

"I merely thought you could use some refreshment after your little display," he told her and she turned away.

"Was it so terrible? I just wanted to see him happy," she asked, taking a sip from the cup he offered.

He shrugged. "No, just wouldn't have expected you to be so forthcoming about dancing with Filch."

"It was for him," she said simply. "He shouldn't feel like he is anyone to be ashamed of. And it looks like it worked." Filch could be seen from their vantage point on the terrace. "What about you?" she asked, as he looked at her without an answer. "Don't you like to dance?"

"No one has ever asked."

Her heart clenched in her chest. She knew she shouldn't pity him. He was lying in the bed he had made but...had no one ever really asked? Had there been any normal part of his childhood? Did his actions and attitude define his place in their world or was the place that they had put him in what defined his actions and attitude?

It didn't matter, she decided. She liked who he was, and thought he should have every chance that others had.

"Would you like to dance?"

His breath caught, causing a huff from his overly large nose. "Out here in the shadows?" he asked. "Where no one can see?"

Without answer, she slipped her hand into his where he reflexively clenched it. Grasping back, she pulled him into the crowded ballroom.

The students were aghast. There was simply no figuring out Hermione.

Flitwick saw her come in —truthfully he found it hard to stop watching her, eager to see a display of her magic. The orchestra had been about to begin a more upbeat number, but he quickly slowed it down into a more languid waltz, wondering what Miss Granger was up to.

Snape had regained his footing and was now walking with Hermione as though he had always intended to be in the room dancing with her. She turned, grabbing his free hand and placing it firmly on her waist. Instead of lifting their other hands as she had with Filch, she let his go, placing it on the other side of her waist with hers at his collar. For him, it seemed a much more intimate pose.

He didn't say anything.

For the first few beats, Hermione led before Severus lifted his chin with a purpose and began to lead her. She admitted to herself she that liked being led around the floor by him.

The students around them whispered as Minerva and Sprout chatted with their heads together, neither willing to admit that they had thought about taking him for a turn themselves.

He spun her in a perfect circle, the skirt of her gown twirling around her. She felt like a princess.

"I'm so glad you didn't turn me down," she told him breathlessly as he pulled her back to him.

"I had to make it worth your while to ask, didn't I?" he challenged.

"Well, you certainly did. I hope you don't mind if I ask again."

"I had better just dance with you all night," he told her. "Now that you've shown everyone I am capable of not tripping over my feet and made me seem approachable, I'll be fending off third- and fourth-years all evening. And who knows what Pomona will do."

"I'm terribly sorry," she told him with fake sincerity. "You're right. It's only my duty to save you from that chore, being as it's my fault in the first place."

"Too right it is. You'll just have to suffer the consequences."

She turned her head to hide her grin as the students looked on in both fear and awe. They spent the rest of the evening as Hogwarts Strangest Couple, leaving Irma and Argus to sneak off when no one was looking. No one could blame them for finding a quiet corridor or for snogging in the library. And the only one who would come looking was currently occupied.

In fact, most of the students faced that dilemma. Whether to take the opportunity to snog in the roses while the old bat of the dungeons was busy or just stay and watch to prove it was real, while waiting for him to realize he was _dancing_ with _Granger_ and to hex her into next week.

Most stayed to watch.

But the rest of the evening was uneventful. Severus and Hermione would stepped off the floor on occasion to keep an eye on the children or grab a drink, but most of the night they spent under the moonlit glow of the enchanted ceiling, the space between them growing ever shorter.

When the music at last faded and the students were hustled off to their dorms, Severus insisted on walking Hermione back up to her room. There were several favourite places students like to lurk, he told her by way of an explanation and she didn't press him.

When the portrait to her room opened, she paused. "Thanks, Severus," she told him. "That was a much better ball than my first one."

"Weasley," he almost hissed.

"Yes, Ron," she agreed. "Tonight was much more enjoyable, and I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

She leaned forward, not giving him a chance to back away as she tilted up her head to brush her lips across his cool cheek.

"Good night," Hermione told him quickly, gathering up her dress and leaving him in the doorway, disappearing before he could chastise her.

The portrait swung shut as she pressed back against it.

"I'm in so much trouble."

Outside, Severus lingered, his fingers gently touching where she had kissed.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N **This one is a bit later because I had a meeting and wasn't feeling real hot, and because I had a reviewer demand to know where the rest of the story was, like I had falsely lead them to believe it was completed, or that I don't update daily. Guys, I post everyday. I think that's quite enough. There are only three more chapters after this, and I'll be working for each of them, so expect 4pm-ish EST updates, but if it's bit after, cool your britches. I haven't forgotten.

As for the other 307 of you - you kick ass. Carry on.

**Chapter Fourteen**

The school was abuzz with gossip for the following week, almost exclusively about Hermione. She took it in stride—it certainly wasn't the first time there had been ridiculous speculation about her love life. She attempted to keep her regular routine of research, interviews with staff, and searching the castle for facts not found in the current Hogwarts: a History.

Filch had never been happier, and even Madam Pince was rumoured to have cracked a smile, though nothing could be verified.

As far as Severus went...it was mostly just as it always had been. The morning following the ball, Hermione came downstairs, later than usual with tired feet and a freshly washed face. Sitting beside him, she mumbled a greeting to him, which at first he didn't answer. Seeing her blurry eyes, he slid her the teapot, and the awkwardness between them was erased.

Though she wasn't really sure if she wanted it to be. The air of something greater was lingering between them, but it was a frightening path to follow. Perhaps it was better that they take a step back. For now.

Hermione was becoming increasingly involved in being a Godmother. Now just walking through the halls or the library, her palms would tingle, and she would feel a little tug she was beginning to understand meant there was a need for her. A calling. Perhaps not one deep enough to be etched onto a coin, but there was something she could do or someone to aid. She was starting to think of them as requests instead of wished.

A few times a coin actually popped into existence right in her hand. These wishes were wishes far more urgent than her usual grants. She shuddered to think what happened to these when there was no Godmother. Thankfully, she was a meddler by nature with free reign of the castle, so it didn't seem unusual for her to appear unexpected in places or to offer her aid.

So far, her secret was still a secret. But soon, she knew it would come out. Nothing could stay secret for too long, especially if one was Hermione Granger.

When she went to see her backlog of wish coins, she stumbled upon a Galleon she hadn't noticed before.

"_I wish someone would save the girl_," it read. Signed Bellatrix Lestrange, and marked the day of her death. Hermione was actually had been present when the wish was cast, having watched Molly Weasley deliver the final blow. Gooseflesh broke out over her body.

_What girl?_ he wondered. _Bellatrix hadn't been pregnant when she..._

No, she couldn't have been. But still...

She would have to talk to Severus.

Patience not being a strong suit, she waited outside his last class of the day and ventured inside once the last student had gone.

"Severus?" she tentatively asked. "Can I talk to you?"

He slowly raised his head from where he had been reading at his desk. "Is this room an appropriate location for said discussion?"

"Uh, not really."

"I thought not," he said, his voice clipped as he rose and led her into his study. "Well? What is it?"

He sounded perturbed with her from his voice. He sounded exactly like Ron when the two of them had been in a relationship, and he had been in a snit. Did he think she was about to throw over his friendship?

"I have a question about Bellatrix," she quickly told him and watched as his shoulders relaxed. After a moment, he took the seat beside her.

"And what about her?"

Hermione was suddenly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat as she realized the discussion she wanted to have with him was highly personal and irregular. "Was she a mother?"

"No," he told her without hesitation. "Rodolphus never wanted children. In fact..." He paused, as though unsure if he should be saying anything. "...she wanted to keep your friend, Longbottom, after they thought his parents were dead, but Rodolphus refused to have the son of a blood traitor in the house. She may have tried the same thing with Potter if given the chance. Thankfully, she wasn't."

Hermione was horror-stricken at the image of poor, sweet Neville growing up in the home of a demented Death Eater. And Harry! The catastrophic result of him living under the thumb of Voldemort was too much for her to think about. "That would have been terrible."

"An understatement, to be sure. Now, why did you storm my classroom to ask about the maternal habits of a dead psychopath?" he asked her, his curiosity piqued.

"It certainly sounds strange when you put it that way. I was doing some reading, for the book, and I came across ad anecdote that mentioned her and a child. I started to wonder if there was a child left behind or the possibility that she was pregnant when she passed."

"Well she certainly wasn't pregnant. She would have done anything to protect her child. The child you are referring to is Lyra."

"And Lyra is?" she asked impatiently.

"Rabastan's. A Muggle mother, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermione sat thoughtfully. "Her niece."

"Yes, her niece."

She nibbled the inside of her lip in thought. If Bellatrix had been attached to a niece who was a baby at the time, she would be about four years old now. "During the battle, Rabastan was killed, wasn't he?"

Severus nodded. "And Rodolphus is in Azkaban."

"And the girl?"

He shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. I imagine the girl's mother was killed as soon as the Dark Lord discovered the girl's parentage. The child was saved because of her father. She likely lived with Bella in hopes of rehabilitation to their way of thinking."

"And now who knows what happened to her."

"And now who knows," he agreed.

With a cock of her head, she asked another question. "Why would Bellatrix marry him if she knew he had no interest in children?"

"It was arranged," he answered smoothly. "Such are the ways of pure-blood society. She married him because she was told she would marry him. I think it's largely their relationship that made her into the person you know. She was wilful at your age, much like you," he added. "When she didn't do as she was told, she was taught how to listen. I wasn't present, but I'm told her husband was egged on by his comrades. Her mental capacities were tested, then she was put in Azkaban. No one comes out after that long completely whole."

His story made Hermione think. Bellatrix really could have been anyone. And maybe any of them could have been Bellatrix. It all depended on your birth and your house.

She was determined to find the girl and place her in safe hands, in hope that she wouldn't turn out like her mother or her aunt.

"She loved the girl as her own," Severus said quietly. "Bella wasn't a lot of things, but she did try to protect that baby."

"Thank you for telling me," she told him. "There are a lot of things we never get to learn about people. Sometimes it's easy to forget that conflict isn't just us against them. We're all just people. I imagine you are either vilified or glorified more than most."

"I wouldn't know. I burn most of my unknown post, and I refuse to read the paper," he told her, sneering at the fireplace. He really did hate being in the spotlight.

"Probably a good idea for now. Walk me to dinner?" she asked.

He rose from his chair to accompany her. "Probably safer than leaving you to get into your own mischief."

Severus had hoped that with the return of the ease of their friendship, after the kiss she seemed to want to forget, that he would see more of her. Perhaps he could assist in her research or help her decompress all the information she was gathering.

This did not, however, appear to be the case.

He went to breakfast the day after she came with her odd questions about Bellatrix, hoping to find her there but he found her unusually absent. Why was it that one minute they seemed to be returning to, well, whatever passed for normal, and then she would disappear into the ether again?

He had no idea that inside that bushy head of Hermione's, a plan was forming. A plan that for now needed to stay a secret.

One by one, she stole books into her room to read on her own. Information could be gathered in other ways, of course, but this was easily started with a book. When Hermione left her room to keep up appearances, she would just magically change the cover of her book. Severus realized she was masking the title by just the barest shimmer of the words if one looked closely, but he didn't pursue it—yet.

Finally after several weeks of barely any communication, he went to Minerva.

"And where is that blasted girl?" he asked her, crossed. "First she is barraging me with questions and pestering me for my time and then she drops off the face of the Earth. Has she fallen back into the world of Potter and his Weasel?"

"Now Severus," Minerva admonished, "be careful or you'll seem like you care about her wellbeing. You have a reputation to maintain. And for you information, it's not A big secret, but Hermione isn't in the castle at the moment. She told me she had to go see someone."

"See someone?"

"Are you a parrot?" she asked him, enjoying watching him squirm. "Have you designated yourself her champion and feel you need to protect her honor?"

"No," he said between gritted teeth. "But I would hate for us to start back at square one with these stupid revisions. The war is over. The right side one. What more is there to tell?"

"You know there is more to it than that," she said, alluding to the paper and the girl. "But I wager you'll see her at dinner tonight and you can ask her all about her whereabouts then."

Severus left her office, the door closing with slightly more than its usual bang. Minerva sighed and watched the door. "Ah, love. To be young again," she muttered before going back to her work. He would work it out sooner or later, she decided, and if he didn't, Hermione would help him along, or her magic would.

"Hello, Severus!" Hermione greeted him out of breath and she slid into her seat late into the dinner service. "How are you?"

"Not as busy as you it seems. Working on something important?" he sneered.

She nodded. "Very. I can't say anything about it just yet though. Some others need to be informed first, but," she hedged, "it's the best news!" She knew he shouldn't be told but she couldn't help it. She wanted to tell him everything.

"I take it congratulations are in order," he said sharply. "I hope your wish comes true."

He left the room, barely even registering her, "Not mine but..."

He left her in peace after that. There was no point in bothering her after he had caught the title of her last book before it was covered. Modern Magical Marriage and Family. Clearly there was something between her and the ginger. Severus had been down that road already, and it didn't lead to anywhere he cared to travel. As Hermione spent long nights in her room, in the library, or out of the castle, he left her in peace. If she wanted to spend her time without him, he would let her.

Hermione was mostly clueless as to his thoughts. As an intellectual, she could be pretty focused on the problem at hand, especially when the problem with a little girl.

She had found Lyra.

It seemed that in the aftermath of the battle, the little girl had been found in a small home owned by the Lestranges. The girl was only a few years old, being cared for mostly by house-elves. After the Dark Lord came into full power, it had been difficult for Bellatrix to have a pretext to see her niece. Rabastan had all but disowned her after finding out her mother was pregnant. Rodulphus had no interest. After Bellatrix died, the girl had no advocate, whether before the Dark Lord or the Ministry and was tended to by the elves before the Ministry came. With no record of who she was, she was put into an orphanage where she remained.

This, in Hermione's opinion, was not "saved" and the wish seemed to agree by its constant presence in her satchel. But what to do with her? It wasn't like she was ready for a family.

So she formed her plan, the execution of which took up most of her time. She missed Severus and she hoped he wasn't offended. But did he have a reason to be offended? They were just friends, right? Hermione didn't feel like a very good friend to him right now though.

After three or four weeks of silence following his outburst, Severus heard a knock on his door. His face melted into surprise as he saw Hermione—a very cute-looking Hermione—at his door with her hands full of a tray for dinner and papers stuck under her arm.

"Can I help you?" he coolly asked.

"You can move out of the way!" she responded as he stepped aside to let her pass. Setting the laden tray on the table, she turned to him. "I need to apologize and explain."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he told her in his flat lecture tone of voice. "Sometimes life just leads us down unexpected paths."

"True," she told him, "but that doesn't mean I couldn't take time out to tell you what was going on. But, it's over with now." She smiled at him. "Sit down, I can't wait to tell you and I brought you a peace offering."

She waved her hand over the table, lifting covers to reveal shepherd's pie, soda bread, some mixed vegetables, and two slices of apple pie for dessert. "My mum's recipes," she told him. "I'm a terrible cook without a recipe, just like in Potions, but my mum is fab. I thought you might like some of your favourites not made by the house-elves for a change."

"You cooked?"

"I did. And don't make that face at me. You know I brew exceptionally well."

And he did, he decided as he sat down to be served. He would trust her cooking. It was pleasant to have a change from the typical preparation.

"So I do need to explain to you why I was in my own world for while," she told him as she loaded her own plate. He noticed that she had lost a little weight and a little sleep, and she didn't have much of either to spare. It was good to see her looking rested with a full meal. "It's a change you're bound to hear about soon anyway."

"More congratulations in order?"

"Well yes, I suppose, but you should probably direct them at Remus."

"Remus?" he spat, almost losing his plate to the floor. His quick reflexes saved it, but only barely.

She huffed. "I know you aren't his biggest fan, Severus, but honestly, you could try and be happy for him."

"But what does Tonks think about it?"

"She's thrilled, of course. Nothing ever would have happened between them anyway."

Severus just stared at her, only his reserve keeping him from gaping at her. He never had pictured her as a home wrecker. "And the wolf pup?"

"Teddy?" she asked. "He's still pretty young but I imagine he'll be okay. Severus, why do you have that horrified look on your face? Remus deserves a family. It was the best solution for Lyra."

"Lyra?!"

By now he had completely forgotten to eat and his plate was once again in a precarious position, balancing on his lap.

"Of course. What did you think I meant?"

"What did I think? I thought you were with that mongrel, that's what!" he snarled.

"Tonks would kill me!" Hermione yelled back. "Why on Earth would you think that?"

"I saw you with hidden books, then I saw one about magical marriage and you were out of the castle seeing someone according to Minerva. You haven't eaten or slept properly in almost a month. You haven't even come down here for anything since asking about Bellatrix! What was I supposed to think? I know the signs when I see them!"

He could have continued his tirade against her behaviour, but suddenly, the precarious plate was replaced with a lap full of curvy witch. Hermione grabbed his head and gave him a sound kissing, her hair filling his nose with the scent of the kitchens and surrounding him completely. He slid his hands up her back, pulling her close, kissing her back as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Hermione's hair crackled, little blue stars of sparks falling aimlessly around them. Unbeknownst to them, a little star tattoo was added to her back as the coin in her pocket shimmered and vanished.

Hermione pulled away first, Severus still trying to pull her back to him like a drowning man grasping onto a life preserver. "I still need to explain," she told him.

"If you're not with Remus, then I don't care, and it can wait," he told her petulantly.

"Severus," she admonished and reluctantly at back in her own seat. "Sorry, I just really needed to get that out of the way. I was visiting Remus and the Ministry. Remus and Tonks wanted to expand their family, but after that curse that almost killed him in the battle, he's infertile. They'll never have more biological children. So I introduced them to Lyra after checking to see about magical adoptions. If Remus could even adopt since he is still classified as a werewolf, for now. It was all pushed through, the introductions were made, and as of yesterday, Lyra is a Lupin."

"That poor girl," he said as she smacked his arm and told him to behave. "Well now that that is settled, you still have another matter to atone for."

"What's that?" she asked, curious.

"We still haven't eaten dinner."

She rolled her eyes and started making a second plate.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Hermione rubbed her eyes as she ran her hands through the large pile of recently collected coins. Most just seemed so small and trivial, or were all encompassing problems. None of them grabbed her attention and made her feel like it was what she should be tackling at the moment. She sat at her desk with her feet propped on a pile of books, tossing the coins into a nearby basket.

"No, no, no, definitely not, who cares, not it, not yet, which one is it?" she asked, aggravated, throwing more coins with mediocre accuracy.

"Aha," she said with a coin in her hand. "It's time to banish a Boggart."

~~HGSS~~

"Neville?" she asked the next morning. "What are you doing later?"

"I think I've got some Mandrake to harvest later for Pr-Professor Snape," he nervously told her.

_Perfect_, she thought. "I have the afternoon free and haven't been out to the greenhouses in ages. Do you need a hand?"

"Sure!" he said with joy. It was a tough job harvesting the shrieking buggers and even tougher to find help. "We've got a rather feisty group this time so some help would be great. Meet me later?"

"Absolutely, I need the fresh air. Just let me get changed."

Hermione went to change into some greenhouse-appropriate clothes, excited about the prospect of working with her hands outside in the budding spring air. And possibly for the chance to watch the interaction between Neville and Severus, or at least to ask him about his current thoughts on their old professor.

Once they met up, they wasted no time in getting their hands dirty. It was difficult to talk with their earmuffs on, so it wasn't until they took a break that she was able to ask him about Severus.

"So Professor Snape should be stopping by later?' she asked.

"Go ahead, Hermione," he told her with a self-deprecating smile.

"And what?"

He sighed. "I know you call him S-S-Severus. That you're _allowed_ to call him Severus."

"We've gotten to know each other since I've been researching here, that's true. I guess we're kind of friends. You haven't been able to get to know him more?"

He huffed. "You know I haven't. The man is bloody terrifying."

"Not really," she told him. "Only sometimes, and mostly to dunderheads."

"Well, I've always been a dunderhead!" he said.

"Do you think you still are?" she asked.

He waved his hand at the room. "Not out here. But in there, probably. And I'm sure he still sees me that way."

"I thought the same about me," she confessed. "That he would still think I'm just an insufferable know-it-all. But I just tried to give him a chance to see the other side of me. Just like we had to see the other side of him. There are certainly things I learned during the last year that I never would have guessed about him."

"No kidding there," he agreed. "He must have been really brave to defy Voldemort all those years."

"You showed your bravery too. Who would have guessed shy Neville would go after Nagini and yell in the face of Voldemort himself? You couldn't even say his name when I first met you."

"Yeah, well. He is still scary. Just like you. Probably why you get along."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure you have things in common too, if you ever give it a chance."

"He never will, so there is no point in trying, is there? C'mon, let's get back to work."

Hermione felt discouraged listening to Neville. He had no confidence in himself when it came to his old professor. He'd had a good reason to avoid him in the past, but wasn't he sorted into Gryffindor?

Before they could say much more, Severus himself came swooping in, arms crossed, waiting for Neville's acknowledgement and almost completely ignoring Hermione.

"I trust these are ready to be added?" he asked.

"Y-Yes," stammered Neville.

"Chopped, not diced?"

"Of-Of course."

"You know they are," Hermione interrupted with a challenging look to Severus. "Neville is the best person we have in the greenhouses and he has me as his assistant. You trust him to do it or you wouldn't have let him do it in the first place."

Neville gaped at his friend who stood with her tiny frame tensed in annoyance at her...boyfriend? Partner? At her...whatever he was. She didn't think that Severus should rattle Neville's chain just because he knew he could. She knew he got a perverse enjoyment out of watching him squirm but it wasn't fair to Neville.

"As you say," he simply told her before taking the sack of Mandrake parts and leaving.

"What does that mean?" Neville asked, almost quaking. "Did you just tell him to do something?"

"You kind of have to learn Slytherin when talking to him," she explained. "He is agreeing that he trusts you. It's a veiled compliment, but it's the only kind he knows how to give."

"Professor Snape trusts me," whispered Neville in awe.

Hermione saw herself out and let Neville stew on that thought for a while. She had made enough progress for one day.

After a few dayshad passed, she invited him up for a cuppa after dinner when she knew Severus would be stopping by.

They were enjoying a quiet evening of chatting when Severus showed up. He was startled to see Neville as Hermione hadn't warned him that Neville would be there but he hid it quickly.

"Longbottom," he said.

"Professor," greeted Neville.

"Neville, Severus. Severus, Neville," said Hermione, pointedly using the first names of both men.

"You know, I really should be going," Neville told her quickly, rising from his chair and replacing his cup. "Professor Sprout has a long day planned for me tomorrow and I should probably get to bed. Thank you though. Good night, Hermione. Professor."

Severus nodded at him as Neville swiftly made his exit.

"That was rather rude, Severus. You chased away my company," said Hermione, cross.

"But I bring you better company," he countered, leaning in to give her a soft kiss. They really should have a talk about what was going on between them at some point, but for now, it could rest. Hermione had enough to deal with between him and poor Neville.

"You should be nice to him," she admonished.

"And I respectfully disagree," he said as he cleansed Neville's empty cup and proceeded to pour one for himself.

She frowned at him. "He really respects you-"

"As he should."

"-and you delight in terrifying him. I know what it's like to admire someone and work your tail off for no gratitude," she continued with a glare that made her point perfectly clear. "No, he'll never be a master Potioneer, but he excels in Herbology and you should respect him for that."

"Whatever makes you think I don't respect him?"

"Severus," she whinged. "You know what I mean. Just be civil. Once. Help build him up instead of tearing him down all the time. I think he's proven himself."

Severus grudgingly admitted that the boy had performed admirably when faced with Nagini almost a year ago, but it was easy to keep in the same roles of student and professor. Soon, he would have to start treating him as a fellow colleague. That was easy with Hermione, but she was much more forward. Longbottom was timid and easy to make a target of his ill humour. And Severus still hadn't forgiven him for ruining Severus's perfect summer, though Hermione was more to blame than Neville was. She was much more of a nuisance.

"Once," he agreed. "If for nothing but the sheer novelty. He probably won't believe it happened anyway."

"No, probably not," she mused

After Severus left that night, Hermione shut the door and ran her fingers across her kiss-swollen lips, still coming to terms with the fact that she was kissing her ex-professor. _The_ Professor Snape. No one was going to believe her, even if she did come into a position to say something publicly. Ron would throw a tantrum, Harry would probably be right behind him. Who knew what his employer would think, though something told her Minerva might not be as unsuspecting as she thought.

And at some point, she was going to have to explain being a Fairy Godmother. It was a part of her that wasn't going anywhere, and she was definitely going public to the rest of the world about it when the time was right. Something had been in the air the night she went to the ball and when she touched Severus's hand for a dance, it almost had felt like she was being claimed. That they were claiming each other. She obviously didn't have much experience in this realm, but something told her he wasn't going anywhere for a while. And if that were the case, there was some things he needed to know. Hopefully he would understand. Hermione felt he would.

The next day after breakfast, Hermione was following slowly behind Severus as they exited the hall to go about their day when Neville walked in. He shifted his glance from Severus to Hermione as Severus looked back at her himself and saw her give him _the look_.

"Good morning, Neville. I hope you're having a pleasant morning," said Severus in what would be a completely nonchalant voice coming from anyone but Professor Snape, who had no nonchalant voice.

Neville's eyes grew wide...then rolled back into his head as he promptly passed out, his head hitting the floor with a crack.

"Severus!" Hermione screamed, gathering the attention of everyone in the hall. She immediately squatted down by Neville and tried to ascertain if anything was broken. "That is not what I meant by being civil! Civil! Don't you think you laid it on a little thick?" she hissed.

"The only thing lying thick is Longbottom," he told her back archly.

"Severus!" came her shrill reply. "Check him please!"

The headmistress ran over as he cast a few diagnostic spells over the body.

"He'll be fine," Severus told her. "_Renervate_."

Neville began to slowly shift and move as he woke up with a moan.

"Mr. Longbottom!" said a worried McGonagall. "What happened?"

Neville sat up, propped by both hands, with the help of Hermione and Minerva as Severus stood by watching. He looked up at his old professor, who arched a brow in return. "Professor Snape was nice to me..." he said, a bit bewildered.

"Come on, Mr. Longbottom. Let's get you up. I think you need to see Poppy. Hermione, please inform her of our imminent arrival."

Hermione nodded before leaving, shooting another glare at Severus. He now knew what Lucius had meant when he said he was "in trouble." It was clear Minerva thought Longbottom had been hallucinating, and Hermione was not impressed.

The thought of Hermione being upset with him bothered him more than he cared to admit. If it bothered him this much what her opinion of him was, then she had a very weighty power in her hands. He could still keenly recall the last Gryffindor female who'd had the power, and he felt it had been abused greatly. As much as he loathed lending it again, he felt as though he didn't have a choice in the matter. It had been decided before he knew that backing out was an option.

The more he thought about it though, the less he minded. As he stood at the bottom of the spiral stone staircase, watching Minerva assist a protesting Longbottom, it occurred to him that Hermione had kept every one of her friends from Hogwarts, and some of them were blundering imbeciles. She clearly had the gifts of patience and understanding. Perhaps she would extend those gifts to dealing with him as well. He would find out soon enough, he thought, as he followed Minerva up the stairs, his long cloak trailing behind.

When he reached the top, he saw Hermione standing outside the hospital wing, watching as Neville was examined inside by Poppy.

"He said Severus was being friendly," said a worried McGonagall.

"I see why you're concerned," Poppy told her while waving her wand over the boy.

"But he was!" Neville insisted.

"Just hold still, Mr. Longbottom."

Hermione was uncomfortable going back into the hospital wing, so she saw Severus as he came up the stairs.

"You really had me worried, you know," she told him. "I just wanted you to treat him with neutrality, not try to scare the pants off him."

"He'll be fine," Severus told her, not willing to admit that he may cherish the sight of Longbottom fainting at his feet for quite some time.

"But what if he wasn't?" she shot back. "You can't just toy with people. And I really hope you don't try anything like that with me. I think I've been toyed with enough, thank you."

"And what does that mean?"

"You know how you were when I was in school. Favouring the Slytherins and looking for reasons to punish the Gryffindors. I know you said some things that were out of line to keep your cover. I know. I get that. But that time in your life is over. It's time to put that away and find out who you really are." She stepped close and laid her hand across his heart. "Who is in here? I don't think that's who I saw downstairs. But I have met him a few times, and I'm interested in getting to know him better."

"Oh, are you?" he asked, not quite believing what Hermione was telling him.

"Yes, I would," she purred. "But only if he is good."

"I think you'll find he can be very good."

"I'm glad to hear it. That means you can apologize to Neville."

"I am not apologizing," he told her in a voice meant to convey its finality.

She stepped back with her arms crossed. "I think you are," she told him. "You did that on purpose and out of spite. He deserves an apology."

The two were squabbling back and forth when a freshly released Neville came out of the hospital wing doors. He saw what was going on, each of them in the other's face, Severus obviously the much more imposing figure.

He stepped up to the two of them to break up the argument. "You leave her alone!" he yelled at the man, for the first time realizing they stood almost eye to eye. "Hermione only wants to help, and you always want to interfere! And you shouldn't yell at a woman like that! If you have something to say to her then you can say it to me first!"

Neville was almost ready to push him away when Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Neville! Stop!"

"Congratulations, Mr. Longbottom," said Severus wryly as Hermione began a nervous giggle. "It seems Hermione is correct after all."

"About what?" asked a confused Neville.

"She has been trying to convince me that you have grown up, under my nose as it would appear, and that you are deserving of a bit of respect. Is that true?"

"Y-yes, sir," Neville said meekly.

"What was that?"

Neville stood up tall, tilted up his face, and took a composing breath. "Yes, sir," he said with more confidence. "I think I do, and it's time for us to bury the hatchet."

"And the melted cauldron," Severus added, making Hermione giggle again. "Perhaps in your herb garden."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as Severus guided him down the stairs, talking about raising a new hybrid of Mandrake for the potion Severus was making.

Later that day as she added a few more paragraphs to her book revision, she realized that it was almost complete. A full year she would be spending on this project and then it was likely to be finished. That thought struck a little fear into her chest. What would become of her after? And what of her and Severus? And the fountain? Would she still have access to it, or would it follow her or something?

There were too many questions to answer this late in the day. She still had a few weeks before the final touches would be complete, and she could figure out everything then. Until then she would revel in the successes of the year. A book revised and updated, a new identity discovered, a few wishes granted, and possibly a new relationship on the horizon.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Keep an eye out for the oneshot for Articcat for being review #100! If we get to 500, I'll offer up another - prompt of your choosing.

One to go! Eep!

**Chapter Sixteen**

She couldn't believe she was almost finished. Just another few weeks and the book would be done, perfectly coinciding with the end of the school year. The students would be free, she would be free, and so would Severus, though she wasn't sure what that meant yet. Hermione knew what she wanted to happen but didn't know if he felt the same.

It was completely off the wall, she knew, seeing as they had only been together a short time, but something felt right with him, and she didn't feel the need to waste time. She was ready to make this a public, long-term relationship. But would he still want secrecy? It would be difficult to do when her friends were much more prominent in her life.

She needed to figure out where she would be living afterward as well. Grimmauld for the start, she assumed, but then what? And would Severus feel comfortable visiting there?

There were a lot of questions and too few answers but one thing was for certain. If she didn't buckle down and complete and send the last revisions, then her summer was going to be spent in the library instead of anywhere else.

Hermione had a load of parchment and papers still to organize into the final bits and pieces of her book. She found a quiet section of the Restricted Section since far fewer students could gain access. There really should be a study hall, she thought, though when she really needed the space, she would just use the Great Hall in between meals. The only downfall was being interrupted at meals, though some would argue that that wasn't a bad thing.

She would pick her head up and give a little nod to Severus when she saw him walking through but mostly she just kept her nose to the parchment.

He felt her pulling away from him in the final weeks of the year. He knew the book was coming to a close and was occupying her time. Rationally, he realized that. But part of him still wondered if she was pulling away unconsciously to make the final break easier on them both.

It wouldn't. Not for him.

In the past few weeks he had realized he had something special with Hermione. He wasn't sure exactly what yet, or where it would lead them a year, ten years, or a hundred years down the road, but he knew what he wanted for now, and that was to be with her, as pithy as it sounded. That was simply all he wanted. They needed to talk, to see if they were on the same page but right now, it was hard to just get in the same room with her. He would just have to wait until the book was completed and then see where things led.

Near the end of term, just a few days before graduation, he received a short note from his elf.

_Severus!_ it read. _It's finished!_

No signature was on the note and none was needed as Hermione's penmanship was well known to him—he had seen at least twice as much of it as any other student during her years as his pupil.

Before he could even question what was finished, a large barn owl swooped in his cracked window and left an elegant invitation in his lap, inviting him to a small formal reception that evening in the Great Hall announcing the newest edition of _Hogwarts: a History_, as revised by Hermione Granger.

He checked off his attendance and handed the card back to the waiting owl. Of course he would go. He would go and celebrate her success, and then perhaps tomorrow, some answers.

He walked into the hall in a set of fine black robes, trimmed in black silk, prepared to meet the crème of Wizarding society and was not disappointed. For the first time, he wore the robes and was not greeted by a Malfoy or a Lestrange or anyone with a silver hand.

He immediately spotted Hermione in the centre of the room, talking to an older wizard in the dress she had worn to the ball. Her hair was down with just a few tendrils holding it back as she worked the floor like the centre of attention she was. Severus glided over to her and lightly placed his hand on her arm.

"Severus!" she said happily. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"I can't believe out of everyone here, you were waiting for me," he said with a self-depreciating smile.

"Then you thought wrong," she told him as he let her lead him to a quiet corner of the room. "There is something I need to show you."

"And we need to talk," he told her. "After this whole thing is over."

"I agree. But first..."

With a flourish, she revealed a large wrapped package and presented it to him.

Curious, he grabbed the large golden bow and opened the box. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was the latest edition of uHogwarts: a History/u, Hermione's name proudly on the cover.

"Open it!" she told him, practically bouncing on her toes.

He gave her a wary look and opened the front cover. It was a first edition, as he had expected, and inside was a printed dedication.

_To Severus. A Prince of Potions and a prince among men. I couldn't have done it without you – H.G._

He stared at the book, shaken and quiet.

"Severus?" she asked softly, suddenly worried. "I'm sorry, maybe I should have asked. I didn't think about whether you would be alright with everyone knowing of our...friendship."

He snorted. "People generally don't want to be friends with me anywhere, especially in public. I just don't know what to say. No one has ever done something like this for me before," he voice growing husky.

She placed her hand on his arm. "I care about you, Severus. A lot. In a way that makes me glad I'm not your student anymore. I know I've been rather absent again these last few weeks getting everything finished, but I wanted to hurry up and get it done so I could be with _you_. I hope I'm not alone in my feelings."

"We'll talk later," he told her cryptically but then gave her a quick buss of his lips to let her know not to worry.

The rest of the evening they spent apart. Everyone there was vying for her attention, and he was content letting her shine. Potter and Weasley showed up with their girlfriends, both eager to support their friend, especially when the publicity was off them for a change—mostly. There were still a few looking for remarks from the Boy-Who-Lived.

She made a speech highlighting the usual—her pleasure working again at Hogwarts, a few gems she had uncovered along the way, special thanks to Minerva for accommodating her. A long talk followed about the importance of Hogwarts: a History and how the book had helped her as a young Muggleborn witch entering wizarding society. Of course, the first introduction students had to the world was Hogwarts, and they learned about the customs through their education. Some chapters had been expanded, and a whole chapter had been added for magical creatures and house-elves, another for the customs, both modern and traditional, of pure-blood society.

Then she gave a special acknowledgement to Severus. Weasley looked like his eyes would explode from his head as she told the crowd that his unexpected friendship had been an aid to her with his knowledge of the castle and its history. She told them what a thorn in his backside she had been during her school years, but that he eventually had been worn down by her persistence. She concluded that she was convinced she never would have been able to cover half the material she did without his expertise. Potter just kept looking back and forth between Severus and Hermione to the point that Severus was concerned he was going to strain a muscle as he watched the boy from his secluded spot in the corner.

As the event wound to a close, Hermione gave her goodbyes, promised her friends she would know her summer plans in a few days, gave a sly wink to Severus and departed. Severus waited long enough that his absence wouldn't be seen as right on her heels and followed her out the door.

"I thought that was never going to end!" she exclaimed as she jumped out of the shadows near the stairs leading down to Slytherin. She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly in the middle of the hallway. He only had to bend his head down a few inches on account of her heels.

"The students are still here," he told her.

She gave him a wicked grin. "I don't mind being the one caught for a change, do you?"

"Don't tempt me," he told her. "I know for a fact that Flitwick is on patrols later, and that old letch would probably just watch."

Hermione shuddered as she entered his room, suddenly thankful for the privacy.

"I really hope you don't mind that I talked about you tonight," she told him as she let down her hair and removed her gloves and shoes.

"Not at all. It was a novelty not being reviled for a change."

She frowned at him. "They all know what a hero you are."

"Yes, and very few of them believe it or care. They also know what an arse I am," he said plainly, removing his own shoes.

"Well, I don't think you're an arse. Much. To me anyway."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence."

She smiled as she sat beside him, shifting slightly to take him hands in hers. "So what did you want to talk about?" she asked nervously, knowing that the time had probably come to reveal her secret.

"What are we doing, Hermione?" he asked bluntly, as he looked up at her face, studying it for a reaction. "Is this just a fling for you? Something to pass the time while you're stuck at your old stomping grounds or is it something more?"

"Is it something more to you?" she asked, slightly squeezing his hands, both eager and terrified to hear his answer.

"It is."

A weight was lifted from her shoulders as her heart soared. "I'm so glad. It's not a fling for me. I would never do something like that. I just didn't know what you thought, with my being younger and I was your student and kind of a pain in your arse, and with Harry's mum and..."

He cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Lily for me was Weasley for you. She just died before I had a chance to realize it. Nothing else ever came along for me, until now. It took me a long time to reconcile her death, but trust me when I tell you she has no part of this relationship. Your age in irrelevant. Did you know that Minerva was married before your time here to a much older man? Also one who had previously been her boss. It's not uncommon in our world. And I daresay we were a pain in each other's arse."

"You never did apologize for the remark about my teeth," she reminded him with narrowed eyes.

"And I probably never will," he told her as he pulled her tight for a kiss, finding no resistance.

"Severus?" she said slowly. "There is something else I need to tell you."

His heart grew tight as she pulled away. Here was where she would say she still had feelings for the ginger, or "I care for you, but..."

"There really isn't a good way to say this," she started then rushed to finish, "I'm a Fairy Godmother."

He chortled. "You're what?"

"I'm a Godmother," she repeated. "I found out shortly after I returned, and that's why I've been acting kind of strange, or mysterious things have been happening around the castle. That's why I was looking for the Ford Anglia and why I placed Lyra with the Lupins and why I was able to help fix the Wolfsbane. I'm a Godmother."

"What exactly does that mean?" he asked. "There hasn't been an active Godmother here..."

"...In ages, I know. Minerva told me," she said. "It seems like it's kind of on a case-by-case basis, but it depends on whether you are willing to go public, which I am. Then I receive coins with people's past wishes, or I am able to tell if they have a strong wish I can aid them with when they are around me. My fairy magic helps guide me to where I am needed and assists in making things come together for the wish to be fulfilled. I also have my dress."

She stood up and gave him a twirl.

"And the tattoos?" he asked.

"What tattoos?"

He stood her up and walked her over to the floor-length mirror. He started to undo the strings lacing up the back of her dress but found the stars went down, down, down, almost all the way down to her tailbone.

"Can I remove your dress?" The timbre of his voice travelled down her spine.

She nodded a bit shy but stepped out of the gown to get a full view of her back. "Oh my," she whispered.

The stars that had started at her neck wound down her back in the outline of a whimsical butterfly. The blue stars were all different sizes, from as small as a pea to almost as large as a Galleon.

"These stars are my wishes," she said in awe. "The wishes I've granted."

"Will it continue forever?"

"I don't think so. Look, there seem to be just a few missing to complete the pattern. Only three or four spots are left."

"What will it mean when it's finished?"

Hermione lifted one shoulder. "I'm not sure. We'll just have to see. Are you willing to find out with me?" she asked, her pretty face clearly showing her anxiety.

"Why would I mind being with a woman who can grant wishes?" he asked.

"There is only one wish on my mind to grant right now," she told him. "And it's mine."

"Well, this is your evening. Your wish is my command."

"Take me to bed, Severus," she whispered and there was no hesitation as he swept her off her feet.

He laid her down on his soft bedcovers as he slowly underdressed, her undergarments not even making it through the door.

"And you're sure?"

"I'm a Gryffindor. We never question ourselves," she said, brazenly as she helped remove the last article of his clothing. She kissed him softly as she pulled him down to lay with her, keeping his body over hers. One hand trailed through his hair while the other trailed down his back, squeezing a cheek and eliciting a moan from him. "You have a nice arse," she muttered in between kisses.

His hands wandered over her, taking in her soft perfection. They ghosted over her face and her shoulders, down her arms and her breasts, over the dip of her stomach to the rounds of her hips before settling inside her thighs, pushing them apart to see the treasure they kept. His long nose nuzzled her as his hair tickled her stomach. He breathed in her scent, familiarizing himself with every part of her.

Air escaped her as he took a taste, delving deep to capture the essence of her, and making her voice create a song only he would hear. His name left her lips over and over again, chanting and reverent, making him throb with his own excitement and need. Never had he felt so wanted by another. Not just needed, but wanted.

Soon she cried out in a voice that made him thankful for the stone walls around them, or there would certainly have been questions in the morning.

He pierced into her before she had a moment to catch her breath, the pleasure and surprise leaving her nail marks down his back. Her hair crackled with blue and purple sparks at the tips, harmlessly falling to the bed sheets and the floor.

"Harder," she panted as Severus pushed deep inside. "Harder...yessss," she breathed as he strove to comply.

"Fuck, Hermione," he told her, his own breathing growing ragged as he cupped one breast and held a firm grip on her hip, thrusting into her over and over again. Soon his grip left her as he reached forward to cup her face in a caress. Hermione felt his pace falter as he neared his own completion and pulled him down to her with her legs wrapped around his torso.

"Fuck me, Severus," she told him raggedly. "I want to hear you cum." Her legs squeezed him tighter as she gave him a bruising kiss, her pert little arse tilting off the bed to give him the perfect angle to reach as far into her as he could go.

He moaned as he came apart inside her, trying to say her name and stumbling over the syllables. "I love you," he managed as his breathing returned. "I love you."

She wiped away the droplets of sweat gathered on his face and at the corners of his eyes. "I love you too."

Sated, they laid in bed talking until night became dawn, neither ready to go to sleep first and let the night end.

When they finally emerged from the bed covers, sometime well after noon, the coffee had grown cold and the breakfast was stale. They ordered a new service which was delivered with a place setting for two and the _Daily Prophet_.

"No pulling the wool over their eyes," Hermione muttered as she opened the _Prophet_ to see the two of them splashed across the front page.

The article about the new book was overshadowed by an article claiming that Snape was a benevolent and reformed wizard, which made Hermione snicker and Severus frown, and another wondering if Hermione had snagged the "most eligible wizard."

"They had to get it right at some point," she said passing along the page for him to peruse.

Hermione noticed when she returned to her own room that one of her coins was missing. She hadn't realized at the time that her actions would fulfil it, but now that they it had, it made sense.

"_I wish my family name was cleared – Eileen_" was all the coin had stated.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Crazy night at work! Here is the end, have fun!

**Chapter Seventeen**

Their parting the following day was slightly awkward as it was a first experience for both. Parting as lovers, but still living in the same building. They were both uncertain how the other would react when they met together in public, but they were both pretty discreet individuals, she figured.

Hermione went back to scheduling a few interviews from eager publications and to set up a book signing at Flourish and Blotts. She really felt like she was making a name for herself—her own name, not part of a third. Perhaps this was what she was meant to do with her life after school and after the war. She could be an author. She always had been a part of someone else's stories.

First she had been a companion for Harry and Ron. She spent her school years as the brains behind the plan, content to stay in the shadows. After, she was offered the opportunity to revise her favourite book, her manual, her wizarding Bible. The book that started it all. And again, she was content to stay out of the limelight and tell someone else's story. Later, Hermione found out she was a Godmother. Again, she was a part of the tale of others, granting their wishes and creating their dreams. It's where she was happiest and content. As Dobby had taught her, she was learning and willing to serve.

Her greatest asset had always been her mind, and any of her teachers would say she had a gift and love of the quill. Hermione would push the book and see what new opportunities opened for her.

Until then, the children were going home, the castle would be free and she could devote more time to figuring out what was going to happen with Severus.

Severus spent the rest of his day locked in his room. Today some of the students would make a half-hearted effort to wish him goodbye and he didn't care to hear it. His worst fear was that Hermione would be among them, so he chose to hide, even knowing it wouldn't change reality.

Though nothing overt had happened that made him believe she was the kind to love and leave, something in him felt as though they were incomplete still, even with the night they had shared, and he had himself believing that it was because she wasn't meant to be his like he wished she was.

The next morning after the train rolled out for the final time that school year, with gleeful children waving at the school they were leaving behind, Hermione walked up to Severus on the platform.

"Looking for someone? I think they've all left."

It was worth the day of silence from him just to watch him jump at her words. The sneaky, sinister Professor Snape could be startled? She never would have believed it.

"Don't you belong on that train?" he asked, his voice drawling over the words.

"I couldn't go," she told him, looking up into his eyes. "There was no way I could leave this library again."

"Minx," he told her, grabbing her hand as they walked off the platform and up to the castle.

"Are you okay with my staying? It was kind of impulsive. We never really discussed it last night,"  
she said shyly.

"Which part of last night?" he asked with a wicked grin, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in years with this witch by his side.

She reached over and playfully smacked him with her free arm. "Any of it. All of it. Mostly my being a Godmother, where we go from here. I'm going to be public. That's going to create a bit of chaos at times, I imagine, but I just don't think I can keep doing this in secret my whole life, and I'm not willing to give it up."

"I wouldn't expect you to. It's who you are."

"I don't expect you to change either," she said as she led them inside the castle.

He snorted at her.

"I'm serious," she told him. "I like the brooding, dark, irritable, snarky professor that you are. You're brilliant, you're brave, you're loyal, and you're a great friend to me. I enjoy your company."

He was caught up once again by her words. Never had anyone spoken so plainly and so highly of him. He had known her long enough to know she wouldn't lie about something like this. In fact, he knew she was a terrible liar to begin with, but it was still a shock to hear that someone wanted to be with him with no ulterior motives.

She led him down a long, unused corridor until he finally asked their destination. "You'll see," is all she told him, but when they reached their final end, Hermione found that the previously cracked door was now shut tight with no chance of budging.

"But this is where my fountain is!" she told him in a panic. "It's always been open for me!"

"Perhaps it's open only for you," he told her, ever the voice of wisdom but it didn't feel right to her.

"I was sure it would let you in," she told him. "I feel like you're my other half. Rejecting you feels like rejecting me too."

"Let's go check your book," he told her. "Maybe it has something."

"I love you, Severus," she told him suddenly. "No one has ever offered to go look through books with me."

"That's because your friends are twits," he said with a haughty smile, leading her back to his room.

~~HGSS~~

"It doesn't really say anything," she said, dejected, as she closed the book. "It talks more about the mirror and the fountain but I don't see how that helps me."

"What mirror?" he asked.

"The Mirror of Erised. The fountain is the Fountain of Erised. They are kind of magical twins. Well, like a yin and a yang. Different things can happen when you bring together the mirror and the fountain. It's all about reflection, introspection, and understanding. The best Godmothers work in tandem with the guardian of the Mirror."

"I'm the guardian of the Mirror," he stated.

Her hands covered her mouth as he walked to the wall near his armoire and pulled the lever that revealed the mirror.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered. She walked over to the mirror and frowned. "But I thought it's supposed to show you your innermost desire? Harry said he saw his family in the mirror, and Ron saw himself with a bunch of awards."

"What do you see?" he asked her softly, standing beside her.

"I just see the two of us, standing in your bedroom," she told him.

He touched her hand. "That's all I see too...now."

Her breath hitched. "What did you see before?"

"You know what I saw, when I was your age. For a long time, it's just been a swirl of vagueness. Nothing distinctive. Until now," Severus told her, his voice raw.

He squeezed her hand again and she squeezed back. A tingle raced down her palm, through their clasped hands and up his arm, causing them both to look at each other instead of their reflections.

"What do you think this means?"

"I think," he said, hesitating, "that it means our magic knew something long before we did. And I think it means that the incomplete feeling I've felt has been filled now."

"You felt it too?" she asked him apprehensively. "I thought it was just me. I was afraid, after last night, when I still didn't feel complete that it's because you didn't feel the same as me. But I decided to throw caution to the wind-"

"No surprises there."

"-and stay to meet with you at the train. It seems as though our magic has been conspiring to make us realize something we didn't, and may never have."

"Even your magic likes to meddle," he told her, though she knew the sarcasm in his tone was a front.

"Come on," she said, leading him to the door. "Let's try again."

She kept a hold of his hand again and they walked through the castle. She reflected on that day almost a year ago when she first informed him she would be staying. He didn't seem to mind as much this time around.

As they rounded the corner, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the door partially cracked open.

They walked through the door, pushing it open a little more to allow them to pass. Snape took in the lovely interior courtyard, much more cared for than when Hermione had first found it. She had never been much of a green thumb, but she took some time when she needed a break from her books to do a little weeding and trimming of the hedges. A few of her favourite flowers were planted here and there in the flower beds to give it her own personal touch.

She never knew that all the other plants had been planted by the previous generations of Godmothers. There was little rhyme or reason to the garden, just lots of love and care.

The trickle of water came to them as they walked closer to the fountain. Hermione sat on the edge and encouraged Severus to do the same. She picked up a few coins to show him, but when he tried to pick up one on his own, his hand just ghosted through the pool.

"Did you have a coin in the pool?" he asked and she nodded.

"Though it might be gone now. I'll have to check when I go back to my room. It was odd, finding it there. I can't really answer my own wish, now can I?"

"I don't see why not," he said matter-of-factly. "People do every day, don't they? What happened when there was no one here to help do it for them? Were wishes just not granted?"

She conceded his point but it still seemed odd to have a coin with her name on it on her shelf.

"You had a coin too," she told him.

"I imagine I did," he told her, taking his hand back and resting it on his own leg.

She felt him begin to withdraw and reached out to him. "It was pretty similar to mine. I wonder if they are both gone now. I didn't try to fulfil it, you know. Yours or mine. So don't think that I'm here as some kind of misguided attempt to be a friend to you or something because of what I am. The magic calls me to a coin, and lets me know when it's time to work on it. It never directly pulled me to you."

"Only indirectly," he said, his face relaxing a little as she threaded her fingers through his.

"Yes, only indirectly."

As they stood up to leave, she stood on her toes and kissed him softly. "Thank you for visiting with me."

"Well, I showed you mine," he said. "It's only fair you showed me yours."

"Naughty," she whispered before kissing him again.

As they stood inside the little walled garden, kissing in front of the ancient stone fountain, the final tattoos glittered on Hermione's back and shimmered together once, completing the design.

Hermione felt the shudder down her spine and a strange awareness came over her. It was like she had a new extension of herself. Pulling back from Severus, who did not appear pleased, she tried to look over her shoulder.

"Severus! What is it?" she exclaimed.

He turned her around and began to laugh, a deep rich sound Hermione loved to hear. "I think I found the fairy part of your magic."

"What?"

"You have wings," he told her and fluttered them gently. "Your butterfly tattoo is finished, it looks like, and they are actually a set of magical wings."

"Can I fly with them?" she asked, feeling behind her to touch her mostly corporeal wings.

He shrugged. "How would I know? Give it a try."

"But how?" she whinged.

He rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake. Just think a happy thought or something."

Hermione screwed up her face, picturing all of her granted wishes that had culminated in her discovering Severus. She felt lighter until she was touching the ground with only her toes, then she panicked and fell down hard on the heels of her feet.

"You have plenty of time to practice," Severus told her.

Hermione was still a little shaken and asked Severus how he had learned to fly.

"Found out about that, did you? Minerva can't keep anything a secret," he said with a petulant tone. It must have been hard living with someone who saw herself as his mother for almost his whole life. "Most people think I was taught by the Dark Lord, since he had the skill, and I was his favourite for a while. But I actually figured it out while I was headmaster. During a raid, my broom was destroyed midair, and I just hung there. I practiced later on until I could fly at will. I'm not entirely sure when I received the skill."

Hermione had the look on her face that showed the gears working in her mind. "I wonder if you received it as a power when you became the guardian of the mirror. It would make sense, wouldn't it? Since mine is because of the fountain?"

"It would. And do you know what those tattoos are yet?" he asked.

"I do," she told him. "They are all wishes," she kissed him, "that lead up," she kissed him again, "to this. Each wish was one of the stepping stones that lead me from where I was right to you. I must be where I should be now."

"I think you are," he agreed, and they headed inside.

~~HGSS~~

A few months later, Hermione was living primarily at Grimmauld place so as not to overstay her welcome in the castle when she received another book offer.

Her revision of Hogwarts: a History was becoming wildly popular. Not just because of her status as a war heroine, but because she had dared to tread into territory previously uncovered. The house-elves, the history of Muggleborns in the school, and the favouritism shown in each of the houses were just part of it. The new information spread through the community like wildfire, beyond Hermione's wildest dreams, and the copies were selling like one of the potions Severus starting marketing in his new-found free time.

It was then only a partial surprise when the new offer came in. Her publisher now wanted her to make a complete account of the second war with Voldemort. "The Uprising" they were calling it.

They wanted her to make a book telling the whole story. The real story. That which wasn't washed, scrubbed, and censored before being put in the Daily Prophet. They wanted to know why the students had left school, how they foiled the plots each year, and whose side Snape was really on.

She brought the offer immediately to Severus and asked his opinion. As in-between bouts of mind-blowing sex, Hermione would remember they were both fairly intelligent and rational creatures.

"Someone is going to tell the story, Hermione," he told her, pulling up a pant leg after their latest bout. "Do you want someone to write a story about you or do you want to be the one doing the writing?"

That clinched it for her. No way did she trust a story of this magnitude and importance to someone who hadn't lived each day on the frontlines. She wanted to see if she could make it as an author. Here was her chance.

"You're going to need some place to stay," he said. "Unless you plan on continuing with the dunderheaded duo and their twittering twits."

"Ginny and Lavender aren't that bad," she chastised. "But if I hear Won-Won again or walk in on Harry and Ginny in the shower, I'm going to puke. I've been looking for my own place, but..."

She trailed off, not really sure what to say. She wanted to tell him that she had been waiting to see what he was going to do before making a final decision. Did he want to live with her? Was he planning on teaching still?

"Minerva gave this to me to give to you," he told her in what seemed to be a non sequitur. Severus took an envelope out of the drawer in his desk and handed it to Hermione, who was seated beside his window overlooking the lake.

She gave him a confused look as she opened the letter. Scanning it over, she gasped and asked him, "Do you know what this says?"

"Of course I do," he told her with a smug nonchalance that was very Professor Snape.

"She wants me to become a laureate of Hogwarts. The author in residence."

"I know."

"I would live here on salary," she said, stunned.

"Yes."

"And I would be free to write about our history, with free access to the library."

"Sounds about right."

She suddenly realized he was still teasing her. "This is serious!" she exclaimed. "There hasn't been an author in residence in ages."

"Centuries, actually. I think the last was Emeric Switch but I could be mistaken. The position was abandoned for quite some time as the public eye turned to things like Quidditch and the Triwizard Tournament. Little thought was given to new literature. But your book has reawakened that, and Minerva felt it was time to dust off the old title and bestow it upon you."

"You'll be fine with me here all the time?"

"Minerva has already cleared a suite of rooms for us near the library."

"Us, is it?" she asked him with her eyebrow raised.

"She'll insist we get married," he threw out as though it were of no significance.

Hermione let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose we'll have to placate her then."

"The old battle-axe."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

Hermione leaned forward before brushing her fingers down his cheek in a soft caress. "Thank you. You've made all my wishes come true."

"And mine as well," he told her.

"Now take me to bed."

He smirked. "Your wish is my command."

~~HGSS~~

In the years that came, Hermione continued to write, eventually taking over the position of Professor of History of Magic. She and Severus set up a side business of wish fulfilment. Any wizard who met the criteria, namely the whim of Hermione's magic, could step in front of the Mirror of Erised to define their deepest wish, and Hermione's well would collect the wish for her to help achieve when the time was right. This was a finicky, and highly selective, and difficult process, but it had a perfect success rate.

Hermione and Severus were married before the next fall in the small courtyard with only Minerva as a witness.

The quarters they shared were not always peaceful. Occasionally shouting was heard in the hallways, but it was often followed by laughter. Sometimes they would wind each other up until the other leapt from the window into the night for a bit of a respite. But they always flew back.

The important thing was—They lived happily ever after.

**A/N:** I make tweak a bit of this tomorrow but for tonight, it will have to do.

Is there any wish you would like to see?


End file.
